And who
can turn this total thing, invert
and let the ragged sleeves be seen
He shall step, he
will shape, he
is already also
moving off
_____into the soil, on to his own bones
he will cross
- Charles Olson, from 'In Cold Hell, In Thicket'
>><<
he will cross
say out loud
in dark House
in thicket to the
Master of Thirsts
all kinds,
I drink.
No real taste
for blasphemy, me.
But can swallow
bears whole, me,
Ursa Major,
Ursa Minor.
Stars. Clouds.
Even skins, the creeps
and willies, me.
What presents?
Venal sins
and mortal, me,
vowing
remember
the water spring,
pure day
forget thinking,
say,
don't try so hard,
hear nearby cedars
scrape, entwine,
they sigh, they
agree
with last this
thought
wishing
as I did,
do still, pray,
they'd always
deciduous be
and not overly evergreen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Memory is evergreen as total things turn into memory. Amazing poem is shared here is brilliant.10