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“Understood the poem” for the first time
and the three hundred sixty degree
sphere around me collapsed with
the chanting spoken in silence
incanted by transmission of
word, but how silent the momentary
blast when all violence is frozen
as the remembered moment before
everything changed. “It was as if
it became altogether intelligible,”
poems and jazz and expression
and pleasure intrinsically seeded.
Like all poetry blossoms from an
internal spring, how it touched
my lips in weeping, in honor at the
crumbling facade, at the dignity
of the mountain goat, chewing
not heeding the dark poison of ink.
But these are what fell away,
the steepness and treachery of the mountain
gave way to a lightness of being
“a feeling of transparency” of all
human endeavors to be alike in their
common enemy of failure and death.

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spaceoasis

February 2011

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