Peter Boyle

(1951 - / Melbourne / Australia)

The Apocrypha Of William O'shaunessy: Book Iii, Ix - Poem by Peter Boyle

By morning
three women, an old man
with a cart, two children.

By evening
two women, two men,
a young boy with a dog.

This summer,
two years passed.


Flies zigzag on the air;
a stone lies
where it has always lain;
smoke stirs
in a green space between silences.

Days end.


Today, looking down on the plain
where three roads meet,
a white dove settled
on my shoulder.

There is only
one journey.


Rain falls on dark roads.
Behind rough white walls
tears are endless.
In salt brine
olives best preserve
their sharp pure hunger.


Just above the level of the trees
two lightning bugs flicker their passage.
In the garden a single candle
shows me the path to the sky.


In the outer spaces of the world
the pure light awaits.

(Irene Philologos, A poetic journal of ten years in Boeotia)

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 2, 2012

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