Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Let words not be dead
insects pinned on a white page
but as unruly
birds, pecking at our entrails life's blood may spurt
and release unspeakably
full, informed, sounds.
We never say all we know,
truth lacking in words
not because we want to take
secrets to the grave,
but for failing to follow
each cause and effect
into our heart's Gordian knot.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

i carry your heart with me

carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

from Preludes for Memnon

The ship's wreck, midnight, winter, and the stars
Swung in a long curve starboad above the mast,

And bow-ward then as the sea hoists the bow,
And back to port, in the vast dance of atoms,
Poured down like snow about you, or again
Steedy above the mast-light, the wide span
Of brilliant worlds, not meaningless, watched bravely
By him who guards the lighted binnacle, and him
Dark in the swaying crow's nest, who beats his arms
Against the cold. What mind of stars is this?
What changing thought that takes its ever-changing
Patter in burning worlds, worlds dying, named
Sirius or Vegas or the Pleiades?
What voyage this beneath them, termless, but
Not aimless wholly, trackless in the trackless
Changing of thought in the wide wind of stars?

Back from the bitter voyage to this moment:
Where the clock's tick marks hunger from disgust,
And the hour strikes for laughter, causeless, caused
By one strayed particle, unseen, between
The heart's Nile and the brain's unknown Sahara:
Rolando's fissure and the Island of Reil.
Who watches here, oh mariners and surgeons?
What Pole Star lights these shores? The atom grows,
If so it will, much like a tree, its light
Orion's now, and now the Bear's, the clock
Seeking in vain its time. We will go on,
Since go we must, bending our eyes above
The little space of light we know,
Thought come from news, love come from thought, desire
Come to fulfilment or defeat; and all
Swinging beneath us like that mind of stars,
Which alters when it must, alters for nothing,
In the long night that guides the ship to death.