unask
poems and photographs 54
(photographs: Tom Davis)
Saturday, May 23, 2009
dawn
there is no dawn that was
There is no dusk to be,
There is no dawn that was,
Only there's now, and now,
And the wind in the grass.
Days I remember of
Now in my heart, are now;
Days that I dream will bloom
White the peach bough.
Dying shall never be
Now in the windy grass;
Now under shooken leaves
Death never was.
Archibald MacLeish, An eternity
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Friday, May 22, 2009
seagull
One day people will touch and talk perhaps easily,
And loving be natural as breathing and warm as sunlight,
And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted,
Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers,
Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea,
And work will be simple and swift
as a seagull flying,
And play will be casual and quiet
as a seagull settling,
And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder
or care or notice,
And people will smile without reason,
Even in winter, even in the rain.
A.S.J. Tessimond, Day dream
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Thursday, May 21, 2009
dandelion
Dandelion, dandelion, flower miracle,
why do you lean on wind at the field's edge?
from Salomeja Neris, Dandelion
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Wednesday, May 20, 2009
rejected things
After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied,
Slid over the western cataract, yet one,
One only, one thing that was firm, even
One thing remaining, infallible, would be
Enough.
from Wallace Steevens, The Well Dressed Man With A Beard
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Tuesday, May 19, 2009
actor, Caliban's Island
mask
Fling your red scarf faster and faster, dancer.
It is summer and the sun loves a million green leaves, masses of green.
Your red scarf flashes across them calling and a-calling.
The silk and flare of it is a great soprano leading a chorus
Carried along in a rouse of voices reaching for the heart of the world.
Your toes are singing to meet the song of your arms:
Let the red scarf go swifter.
Summer and the sun command you.
Carl Sandburg
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Monday, May 18, 2009
actors, Caliban's Island
these, our actors...
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
From Shakespeare, The Tempest
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earlier ~ site map ~ strange shadows
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