There is a place where all imagination ends.
There is a frontier beyond which
nothing is comprehensible.
Who will tell me what lies in between?
Diurnal hours on planet earth
It’s as if I’m alive, I’m almost sure.
Strangers know me at the supermarket,
even family knock and peer through windows,
ask me why I wasn’t where I should have been
by rote and custom.
Yet I know when I awaken every day,
I’m here for the very first time.
I smile in the sunlight,
laugh and flatter,
ignore the fluttering flags of night
that hide behind my mind.
But in the quiet moments I regress,
a slowing down of knowledge,
seeking what each morning’s light
has taken from me.
All that’s left are wisps and whispers
from the me who touches luminance,
swims in a tide of photons, sees
the flames of a different night.
Does he wonder what the daybreak brings?
Nocturnal hours in a place where time is upside down
From the mother earth, a gentle warmth,
a sinuous glow intertwines our being.
We are separate and together.
Soon the sun will rise, draw our heat away,
and we will rest until tomorrow’s darkness.
But in the season of the harvest,
every meeting’s also of a parting.
We’re taken, one by one,
life to stellate darkness, an end
and a beginning.
Tonight Camille, who once I loved,
will leave this world behind.
The cruel machines have come for her,
plowshares spin and wound the earth around her feet;
bleeding corpuscles of light are leaking
from the tear.
Now Camille is freed, carried upward with the flux
on petalled wings,
rising like a candle kite
towards inverted shadow, the starlight
of another world.
If my camellia bush could think,
would it believe that it expressed the sun,
a glorious, cold unfolding of a solar prominence?
gears of time, Forward and Reverse, Park is difficult.
after all, here is some detail: