Thursday, January 14, 2010


Bouncing molecules
upon the planet

Ripples of uncertainty
land in random order
internal patterns

Limited only by
dimensions of
light follicles

An old wound
has erupted
I stem the flow
I know the steps to take
but it still hurts

Haiti is a
torn hem
of the mother's

I am less
than a bacteria

There is a
certain measure
of content
in not being


Anonymous said...

Stirling you are a visionary with words. These:

"Haiti is a
torn hem
of the mother's

are almost crystaline in their compassionate accuracy.

Jan Hersh said...

keenly worded observations
flow on the map in my head

Brenda said...

I've read "Eclipsed" a few times, and the images are stark, deeply touching, fragile, beautiful. I ponder. Each time I read I enter the world of pondering...

bouncing molecules, yes, we are this
ripples of uncertainty, yes...

and the wound, yes, I know old wounds that erupt that we know how to stem the flow of, and how they still hurt...

Haiti is a
torn hem
of the mother's

pure brilliance as an image, a gesture, and it sears

certain measure
of content
in not being

yes, I understand this...

and yet often the images in the poem seem random, I'm not sure how they relate to each other, there are big leaps, which I like, really like in a poem, the leaps make the poem for me, and so I've come to decide today that this poem is made up of a series of smaller koans, each containing its own image, own puzzle, own wisdom, and they are strung together like an abstract painting of prayer beads...

A beautiful offering of your stunning talent, Stirling...