Clarity,
Office 17622,
PO Box 6945,
London.
W1A 6US
United Kingdom
Phone/ Voicemail:
+44 (0)20 3287 3053 (UK)
+1 (561) 459-4758 (US).
I can see there are many possibilities
to adopt, too many to be comfortable with one
when the opposite seems so inviting.
Should I submit to a rush of questions
that could provide a starting point?
Do you always frown when it snows,
turning your nose up at the blizzard covering roads
and posts? Does it remind you of a life without birdsong,
the chatter of busy people who fill their lives with unanswerable demands
on light or bury the green, yellow and red
you pick to brighten your room reflecting the white
of your eye where tears well
when everyone you love has bidden goodbye?
Or, the one I considered
in the beginning? What will happen when I die?
Unfurl petals in a rose to find the source
of odour, burn fingers in a brazier
while lemon stings a cut between eyelid and eyesight
press bones into sand,
smooth wrinkles deep
as an ancient well
lathe a new born in oil as it screams an arrival,
enter egregious calm of a motionless night
as another shadow gently slides
into a backdrop for a star to appear?
Interned in the grass where no one sees the weeds
or privileged to see the other side?
The protracted dissonance as a wife cared only
for a swordsman’s art
impatient with dreams and lines of longing,
the moonlit field
and a blow from behind
broth eaten with white curds
as red leaves drift past an open door,
the taste of claws and rain
before the oracle pronounces another life full
of loneliness and abstinence.
The conscience of one repressing feelings for sorrow
or able to penetrate to action before this life?
The partition between a comet’s glare
and the iris of a new born blown away,
the purpureal glow quietening the ache for attention
and the need to feel warmth through
and through bringing forth harmony
in light that never reaches the earth.
A witness to words that appear out of nowhere
in silence
or listening as would an incumbent in the depths
of an unmoving ocean
to the cries and sighs of luminous beings
who dwell beyond reach of eyesight?
One
or the other,
the other or one
balanced
and at ends far outreaching the others reach
but giving credence
to each other’s meaning
because without one
the other would diminish.
to adopt, too many to be comfortable with one
when the opposite seems so inviting.
Should I submit to a rush of questions
that could provide a starting point?
Do you always frown when it snows,
turning your nose up at the blizzard covering roads
and posts? Does it remind you of a life without birdsong,
the chatter of busy people who fill their lives with unanswerable demands
on light or bury the green, yellow and red
you pick to brighten your room reflecting the white
of your eye where tears well
when everyone you love has bidden goodbye?
Or, the one I considered
in the beginning? What will happen when I die?
Unfurl petals in a rose to find the source
of odour, burn fingers in a brazier
while lemon stings a cut between eyelid and eyesight
press bones into sand,
smooth wrinkles deep
as an ancient well
lathe a new born in oil as it screams an arrival,
enter egregious calm of a motionless night
as another shadow gently slides
into a backdrop for a star to appear?
Interned in the grass where no one sees the weeds
or privileged to see the other side?
The protracted dissonance as a wife cared only
for a swordsman’s art
impatient with dreams and lines of longing,
the moonlit field
and a blow from behind
broth eaten with white curds
as red leaves drift past an open door,
the taste of claws and rain
before the oracle pronounces another life full
of loneliness and abstinence.
The conscience of one repressing feelings for sorrow
or able to penetrate to action before this life?
The partition between a comet’s glare
and the iris of a new born blown away,
the purpureal glow quietening the ache for attention
and the need to feel warmth through
and through bringing forth harmony
in light that never reaches the earth.
A witness to words that appear out of nowhere
in silence
or listening as would an incumbent in the depths
of an unmoving ocean
to the cries and sighs of luminous beings
who dwell beyond reach of eyesight?
One
or the other,
the other or one
balanced
and at ends far outreaching the others reach
but giving credence
to each other’s meaning
because without one
the other would diminish.