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{sunday} Clint Cline ~ Lateralis XXVI

Origin Story by Leah Naomi Green

“What is dying is the willingness to be in denial.”
            —angel Kyodo williams

The heron flew away  
and I wanted to tell someone    

how long it stayed,   
how close I got,  

how much I missed it 
even as it stood 

to watch me,  
large-eyed animal 

that I am, terrible  
at believing what I can’t see.

You see fire in the home 
where we live: the world 

in cardiac arrest. 
A heart attack

is not the onset I want to say 
to someone, it’s the flare.

It illuminates what’s already here
the forests 

illuminated, the earth 
lit as an origin story.

Here you are,  
I say instead,  

aloud, surprised 
at how close  

I’ve been holding you 
in the dark. 

Flame yields  
no new landscape. 

It bares the contours  
like a map

so we can see 
where we’ve been all along,  

can see one another  
as we walk, and say, 

for once, nothing  
at the fire’s steady flight,  

like a heron  
lifting in loud beats, 

our silent mouths open    
as if to give it a tunnel.

Happy Sunday.

And now for a lovely concert of acoustic music.

Bert Jansch, John Renbourn & Jacqui McShee – Waltham High School, MA, 11 April 1993

{sunday} Leon Williams ~ Preserve Me

I. 
Life goes by moving, 
Up and down a chain of moods
Wanting what’s nothing. 

II. 
My soul is the wind 
Dashing down fields of Autumn:
O, too swift to sing. 

III.
Listen to the rain
Falling broken on the ground:
Pity the sky once. 

IV. 
Knowing not at all
Who stands above me seeing:
Tears of gratitude.

V
The nightingale sings
My heart desires but the night 
Space swallows my voice:

VI. 
I shall spend my moods 
Like a rose discards leaves
And die without moods. 

VII.
Did you say a sound?
Did you say the wind? Dashing
Only my soul’s quick—

VIII.
O moon of to-night 
Let me rest my head on you
And hear my life sing. 

IX. 
My ears burn for speech 
And you lie cold and silent 
Supinely cruel:

X.
Look at the white moon
The sphinx does not question more. 
Turn away your eyes.

XI. 
Thought that is no thought 
Poems buried in my heart
Song that is no song … 

XII
The poetry of life?
No, the picture of my dreams 
Flashing on my heart.

XIII
I ride down the stream
Between the earth and the sun 
On the moon’s shadow.

XIV
Treading wearily 
A unit of the parade
There is no escape.

XV. 
Within the shadow 
I am weaving the pattern 
Of a spider web. 

XVI
My heart like a shell
Moans at the breast of the earth 
Being too full to sing. 

XVII
You are life’s fountain 
Springing from eternity 
Flow not recklessly.

XVIII
I will wrap the song 
In the leaves of the lotus 
And send it to you. 

XIX
No words speak louder 
Than the tragic look of eyes
Close yours out of love.

XX
Why should I wander 
I who have known no surprise?
Every day the same.

Japanese Hokku by Lewis Grandison Alexander

Happy Sunday.

And now another fabulous musical oasis brought to you by Youtube algorithms.

Hiroshi Yoshimura (吉村弘) – Wet Land (1993) [Full Album]

The Art of iPhonism

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