did you land safely, old dougal?
(der...click on the red...just in case...)
~~~
less profound stuff to follow...
I was not a poet, but now I am, in a way. In a way, mind you. I wasn't an infidel, but now the cloak of unbelief is upon me. I wanted to learn you off by heart, mine your soul. Cross my heart and hope to die. I got as far as a few letters before you withdrew your hand, so the rest remains unfinished...
at the crossing of the border there is no border.
what is far is also near. I want to move deeper into today. each thing shines in its own way.
"what she noticed so shrewdly is that the ordinary is so extraordinarily mysterious". common life, brought back to the ordinary prose of the world, the ordinary specialness of people without the need for theology or metaphysics. first things first.
The strength of a man's virtue or spiritual capacity measured by his ordinary life.
and the eye that sees them refuses
to see further, glances of the
surfaces that
speak and conjure,
rests
on the frail
strawness of straw, metal sheen of tinsel.
---Denise Levertov, Saul Bellow, Denise Levertov.
straw man. it's true. the fire within, seeks the fire without-an I for an I-finds it's form there, sparkles, speaks, splinters, breaks, curls. but remains straw. not the gold of cathedrals, but the summer breeze.
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