We're close, right? I wanna share a poem with you. May I read it to you? I can start here from across the table or I can snuggle up and whisper it in your ear. It's your call.
In a Dark Time by Theodore Roethke
In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
You like-y, Joe?
The darkest times let us really see. Enlightenment springs from despair. Beyond any meaning, it just flows and makes you feel it, no? Transcendent.
It resonates with me personally, of course, but you don't wanna get all up in my business now, do ya?
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8 comments:
Michael,
Beautiful poem, thanks for sharing it.
PS. We all come here to mind your business dude, our own business is boring.
:-)
Hey now TOA, my business is both fascinating and Lysol-fresh. (And now I have to apologize to you for using your post like a prop to set up a dumb injoke in an attempt to amuse our host. But you don't really mind being used as long as I'm gentle, right? ;) )
Ahem, poetry. I have a weird relationship with poetry in that I am occasionally compelled to stop writing other things in order to write verse, but I think most poetry is pretentious, unpleasantly obfuscated, and/or just stupid. This piece, though, I like a lot. Michael, you have sensational taste.
Ya flatter me, kid.
I just know what I like.
P.S. Whether you use him gently or prison style, Andrew doesn't mind.
Right, buddy?
Got. It. In. One.
I'm a man of varied moods.
"Got. It. In. One."
I don't know what that means.
As in, "Whether you use him gently or prison style, Andrew doesn't mind." Yup, you got it in one.
Capito?
Kapish.
Poetry? - like being made to watch a kind of intellectual masturbation, if you ask me. Something that can sometimes be vaguely interesting for the viewer, but is really something that should be best done and kept in private.
I mean poetry, really, haven't we moved on from here people? Its just soooo last century, much like letter writing. Send an email people, get over it.
Now if they can find a way to give it a more interesting storyline, and its then released on DVD with a killer soundtrack and a cutie playing the lead, then let me know, m'kay?.
Oh my Brad, does that make me sound shallow and superficial? I'm not ya know, I'm very edumacated ...
Bodhi :-)
Sydney, Australia
[OK, so I might be partial to an occasional haiku - but sharing a little mind wank with friends every now and again seems entirely appropriate]
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