Ezra Pound

(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972 / Hailey / Idaho)

Phanopoeia - Poem by Ezra Pound


The swirl of light follows me through the square,
The smoke of incense
Mounts from the four horns of my bed-posts,
The water-jet of gold light bears us up through the ceilings;
Lapped in the gold-coloured flame I descend through the æther.
The silver ball forms in my hand,
It falls and rolls to your feet.

The swirling sphere has opened
and you are caught up to the skies,
You are englobed in my sapphire.
Io! Io!

You have perceived the blades of the flame
The flutter of sharp-edged sandals.

The folding and lapping brightness
Has held in the air before you.
You have perceived the leaves of the flame.

The wire-like bands of colour involute mount from my fingers;
I have wrapped the wind round your shoulders
And the molten metal of your shoulders
bends into the turn of the wind,

The whirling tissue of light
is woven and grows solid beneath us;
The sea-clear sapphire of air, the sea-dark clarity,
stretches both sea-cliff and ocean.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 1, 2010

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