Thursday, June 5, 2008

Lives of The Artists - Charles Wright


4


Jaundicing down from their purity, the plum blossoms

Snowfall out of the two trees

And spread like a sheet of mayflies

soundlessly, thick underfoot -

I am the silence that is incomprehensible,

First snow stars drifting from the sky,

late fall in the other world;

I am the utterance of my name.



Belief in transcendence,

belief in something beyond belief,

Is what the blossoms solidify

In their fall through the two worlds -

The imagining of the invisible, the slow dream of metaphor,

Sanction our going up and our going down, our days

And the lives we infold inside them,

our yes and yes.



Good to get that said, tongue of cold air

Licking the landscape,

Snuffing the flame in the green fuse.

I am the speech that cannot be grasped.

I am the substance and the thing that has no substance,

Cast forth upon the face of the earth,


Whose margins we write in,

whose one story we tell, and keep on telling.





-Charles Wright, Black Zodiac

2 comments:

ScaughtFive said...

That's what I'm chasing, muk muk. Where is it?

P.S. that lady sounds like a spanish Serge Gainsbourg.

Polydora said...

Not sure, Spaceman. It's been me and the crackling universe since I was three. It follows and fills me. Mostly I feel it in my chest and sometimes in my solar plexus, just under the ribs:

My belief beyond belief.

I was stranded on this planet with only that crackling white noise to sustain me. It's the only thing that doesn't leave, go away from me and disappear. The only thing. The only thing... It's all I have.