Celtic Radio and the Fourth Dimension (frontispiece)
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Measured in Truth
Fishwatermusick
Apocalupsis
Reminiscence
A flash in her eye, smaller and smaller it falls until it drops from view
like lightning bolts over the Plain of Alaric.
Quicksilver---ephemeric
A teacher of moral wilderness, she is capricious.
The wind blows where it wills...
"Je chante a la femme, qui seme a tout vent."
Electric fishwater dusted swampy forest waters in Heverlee, no one asks where she goes,
she is Zero.
A storm breaks upon her brow and danger falls.
Weaker men run for safety as she turns and rends the evening.
She brings me wine, olives, les fomages, le pain...
She picks mushrooms and almonds;
wildflowers and inspiration.
She brings me music and words for my purple pen---swimming in blue water, and grey water...
In coldmarble-walled water
in moonlit springs on rocks
in the storm battered sea, her floral dress waves.
To the Black Mounains, to the high hills,
white jagged rocks and trout pools.
To the rocky goat road, to the wild windy horse pastures
at the end of the world.
All is one in the Beginning,
swirling, radiant, bumblebees humming,
dry, sharp quartz walls
in the forest it is drizzling.
Smaller and smaller,
until she is zero, dropping out of sight
like quicksilver, or silver on silver.
an ephemera,
No one asks where the wind blows,
it listeth.
Lightning siezes the tangled horizon
over the field of Alaric.
Electric lights break on her brow,
enervating her rounded fishwater pools.
like lightning bolts over the Plain of Alaric.
Quicksilver---ephemeric
A teacher of moral wilderness, she is capricious.
The wind blows where it wills...
"Je chante a la femme, qui seme a tout vent."
Electric fishwater dusted swampy forest waters in Heverlee, no one asks where she goes,
she is Zero.
A storm breaks upon her brow and danger falls.
Weaker men run for safety as she turns and rends the evening.
She brings me wine, olives, les fomages, le pain...
She picks mushrooms and almonds;
wildflowers and inspiration.
She brings me music and words for my purple pen---swimming in blue water, and grey water...
In coldmarble-walled water
in moonlit springs on rocks
in the storm battered sea, her floral dress waves.
To the Black Mounains, to the high hills,
white jagged rocks and trout pools.
To the rocky goat road, to the wild windy horse pastures
at the end of the world.
All is one in the Beginning,
swirling, radiant, bumblebees humming,
dry, sharp quartz walls
in the forest it is drizzling.
Smaller and smaller,
until she is zero, dropping out of sight
like quicksilver, or silver on silver.
an ephemera,
No one asks where the wind blows,
it listeth.
Lightning siezes the tangled horizon
over the field of Alaric.
Electric lights break on her brow,
enervating her rounded fishwater pools.
Blog Archive
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2007
(15)
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August
(15)
- Celtic Radio and the Fourth Dimension (manuscript:...
- Celtic Radio and the Fourth Dimension (frontispiece)
- I.Take me to the high hillsWhere purple flowers sw...
- II.(Canal du Midi: Azille)Dull grey fish leaps int...
- III.(Le plage a Gruissan)Monday, Bastille Day, 14 ...
- IV.(Fort Bruno)One with my poemSitting on mossSile...
- V.(Dans le bord du lac de Jouarres)Fire crackles a...
- VII.(from Castelnaudary to Villeneuve to Azille)On...
- X.(Olonzac, Brasserie des Sports)This poem is a so...
- XI.(Lac de Jouarres){A.Antimirror}My poem is an an...
- XII.(Antibes: Le plage)Pebbles on the beach never ...
- XIII.(Antibes-Picasso Museum)Surfmusic:wet stones,...
- XV.(Moustieres Sainte Marie)Misty green lake in th...
- XVII. {A.}(Minerve)“And have put on the new man wh...
- XVIII.{A. Jouarres l’Etang}The surface of Lac de J...
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August
(15)
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