The palaces preen in an unthinking moment, azure,
in sand, in majestic silohuettes, at low tide
with a flashlight warm and heavy
like April starlight swept across green plains


Imprisoned and lamented
the path is a trapped and wounded animal purple in dusk
longing for what belongs on a branch
in the air, and touching a boundless offering


Only in doing can one grasp the mind
facts, ideas, a place for our hands
to fabricate the source of factories,
pearls, a whole life from every where & thing


Fingertips reaching for brushes in the skin of their day
fireflies in the corner appear hesitant
keep silent and turn to each other
listening within a curling leaf to all of heaven


The widenining circles of each loss are a handful of seeds
divided up into lots

05/24/2016

Author's Note:

SOURCES

Rilke: The Book of Hours
Trans; Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy
pages: 213, 181, 111, 79, 45
© 1996, 2005


Arthur Sze: The Redshifting Web
pages: 173, 118, 119, 81, 51, 17
©1998


**Composed within the span of an EP: http://music.gravitasrecordings.com/album/charade**

Posted on 05/25/2016
Copyright © 2024 Paul Lastovica