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.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
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. Also check out the 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...
Post a Comment