“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label mana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mana. Show all posts
Monday, July 4, 2016
The mana of the fauna
Gaia is my locale,
Terra is my terrain
Inside this
aqueous bubble
flora flourishes
thick and suspended amid
the primordial brew.
This is my realm-
while I am at the helm
I am in my house,
an island broken free.
The sky is not too far away,
a ceiling just out of reach.
On the tip of my fingers,
on the tip of my tongue
I taste the expression
Home sweet Home
and am parched
waiting by the door.
Image By en:Gerard van Schagen [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. World map c. 1689.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Collecting words from the bone pile
The Three Oddest Words
By Wislawa Szymborska
When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.
Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh
Copyright © Wislawa Szymborska, S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh,
Copyright © Wislawa Szymborska, S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh,
__________________________________________________________________________________
Italo Calvino on Quickness-
"Words, words that make me think. Because I am not devoted to aimless wandering, I'd rather say that I prefer to entrust myself to the straight line, in the hope that the line will continue into infinity, making me unreachable. I prefer to calculate at length the trajectory of my flight, expecting that I will be able to launch myself like an arrow and disappear over the horizon. Or else, if too many obstacles bar my way, to calculate the series of rectilinear segments that will lead me out of the labyrinth as quickly as possible."
Imagine words being
disembodied
from their inky chambers
in confinement
of a stroke on whim
Words set free from
the constriction
of definition
trapped
by convictions
Language as folk lore
posing as apparitions
opaque and outside
ourselves
a resemblance
While we wrestle with gravity
Here
Words are grappling with reality
Now
Set against
the woven fabric canvas
of our chance encounters
in perpetuity
strokes on a whim
I get the impression
of vibrant color on a white day
either way
A container to store ecstasy
dripping down
and running
to meaning
we para phrase
artfully appraise
Concentrate as you read
these words you may need
inside your head
with your minds i
while standing beside
ourselves
in
nirvana
projecting
maniacal mana
Leaning on clouds
we rely
on coming to a compromise
in order to see
shapes as symbols, like these
metaphors
thirsty for more
than thin air
An impression
a sense
of being
with words
we try to share
interchangeable
synonyms
thereby
invoking and provoking
a sense of continuity
An encyclopedic
orthopedic
selfsame essence
Words are the
people pith
that make-up
our masterful myth.
Image by Gerard de Lairesse, 1690 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...