Bouncing molecules
upon the planet
configuration
Ripples of uncertainty
land in random order
internal patterns
conjugating
conversations
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
sleeve
I am less
than a bacteria
There is a
certain measure
of content
in not being
alone.
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A writer's escape into the inner world where imagination meets virtual reality
Followers
About Me
- You can find links to my published writings at: stirlingdavenport.com. These include two fantasy novels, a collection of short stories, and various stories and poems in anthologies. My website includes a link to my son Miles Ballew's children's book "Too Many Friends" with his great illustrations. My mainstream novel is out to agents, looking for a publisher. As always, writing is my calling, painting is my dharma, and I walk in nature to clear my head. The rest is just fiction.
3 comments:
Stirling you are a visionary with words. These:
"Haiti is a
torn hem
of the mother's
sleeve"
are almost crystaline in their compassionate accuracy.
keenly worded observations
flow on the map in my head
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
sleeve
pure brilliance as an image, a gesture, and it sears
deeply
a
certain measure
of content
in not being
alone
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...
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