Nevertheless
Along the water's edge, nested in the grass, I found a speckled egg. A lazy swarm of gnats drifted over a hedge. All across the sand, small armies of ants. Such ordinariness ! Something in me collapsed.
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The Vessels
A nude woman kneels beside a pond. She carries in her hands two distinctive vessels, one rounded and one long. Overhead, an eight point star. At her knees, acacia leaves. Slightly turned, the vessels pour, receiving of their birth. One is of the pond, the other of the earth. From the Doric vase issues a straight and narrow course. Rigorous and of the sun, it spills in paradigm. It has filtered through the air, and its birthplace is the mind. Overhead an eight point star. At her knees, acacia leaves. From the ionic cup issues forth a spiraled loom. Rootless and circular its fountain forms a moon. It has filtered through the earth, and its birthplace is the womb. Slightly turned, the vessels pour, receiving of the other knowledge of the earth, and knowledge of the water. Overhead, an eight point star. At her knees, acacia leaves. In the distance, a small fire.
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Defenseless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame. -Auden
About Words
Consider the alarm clock. Though morning often comes too soon, I hardly think the new day is cause for alarm. I propose a change in expression: rather than set the alarm, why not set the caesura. Or the stanza break. Or the turn. Darling, don’t forget to set the volta… I’ve got to get up early in the morning...
