I was always a guest - of family, of religion, and especially of language
- nothing more, nothing less. - Robin Blaser
He's gone crow said one poet of another - Jango Kamenstein
Where have they gotten to
these graces clumsy on their feet?
They've fled, easy wings balletic toward ocean or other.
Black, they bob low over white waves, confuse themselves
for sails or Van Goghs or Cezannes, even Twombys so
steady they go away or depending on time of day and
slant of sun they wobble or appear to do so when things
even birds are bent mirage-podge-and-puddle-trajectories
of intent, instincts prevailing so, woven, they have went,
their patience with the city spent.
They're fled. Gone.
Why then? Why hang from the balcony of God?
Why the black bull in a wedding dress standing
in moonlight's window singing songs of love
when Justice is calling,
when Justice is calling?
....Precious tiny timbres of silver,
precious little bells of bronze,
from each massive horn, ring.....
Eternal Wheel.
Wheel eternal.
Why? Why spin at all
when behind eyelids
of a dying sun awaits
the Finality,
Here, awake now,
feathers,
hope,
burn to ashes.
Dear ones. Dear ones, pray.
Pray that feather ash is more preservative than the feather outright.
In the only EXIT stands a viejo, a seashell
patch over an eye, at the frontera he spins
his centuries old barrel organ, he mournfully
sings the end of Empire
>a self-administered cattle prod to the temples
called postmodernism
>a distinct lump of sorrow forms
we are returned to the fragility of birds
when the dead sister reappears in dreams she is always a bird
>there is something here of the child
upon waking thinks he can fly
even though he failed badly the day before
>urge to keep everything secret
sin of pride, also greed
>a "stumbling block"
impedes the neophyte
>disregarding an afterlife
he who would be first will be last
this is peculiar but not remarkable -
night now
snow is falling
warm slippers
track for a few seconds
a break in the clouds
attend
by stars by blackness
above clouds
blessed night cushions us
enters northwest
attend
eyes owned
don't travel light
great deer see
and past
be
practice
be
companionship
child
waters
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem