unlovely dignified bearing
longevity marking his shell
time and symmetry shaped
time to ponder to think
deeper down than survival
to grapple with quieter
mysteries questions of
corporeal existence to muse
he must surely have wisdom
his unhurried passage gives
pause to the river course
silences nether woods stills
forest creatures who each
give close listen attending to
even his least rasping words
such is reverence toward
age in the uncertain wild
Archives
All posts for the month June, 2014
“The Inner Workings of the Mind”
Illustration from daisyrlyoung.tumblr.com
we arrange life
in warrens of chambers
miniature worlds
we govern at whim
kings and queens
within mirrors who
rule all reflections
refusing the sing-song
of strangers abroad
preferring ad libitum
sounds that our tongues
bounce off surfaces
all facing inward
waiting for each
note to die
in its echo
before giving out
with the next
model freedom
for privately
living the life
that we choose
even one that sustains
no true melody
nonetheless
stretching our
singleton phonemes
to dullest of limits
attaining atonal
longevity
long as we don’t
step outside
where it’s others
who make all the rules
and play music that
surely will kill us
Sherman Gilbert House – Widow’s Walk
Photo by LM Harrison
From flickr.com
perched high where
the conjugal voices
of ghosts ride on
private blown breezes
and silent-borne dialogue
communicates news
of the living and dead
oaken balustrades
fashioned by
fisherman hands
on hiatus between
harpoon harvests
far off in the deeps
where somewhere
his bones
one day sank
to his peace
and she felt it
the moment it happened
a chill shook
the middle of her
as she climbed
straight and stoic
right up to the walk
to confirm what she knew
in her heart
now she smiles
through her tears
at the joy and the grief
of the presence of him
every evening
on high in her own
much beloved
private breeze
modern turns old
in my verdigris mouth
copper cupola skin
weathers newborn
ideas to deep tarnish
what once was a
smoothly articulate
vane in surmount of
my mind now stands
heedless of thought
bearing winds frozen
rusting in place
pointed permanently
at my cardinal past
(Originally posted here March 2013)
the old Jacobin
shook the foundations
eighteen centuries in their accretion
they collapsed under force
of his pounding critique
of accepted pure reason
then he rebuilt them strong
where they still stand erect
on progenitive, perceptive
practical reason
autonomous
in yield of morality
he achieved revolution
some measured Copernican
fixing man’s mind
as the sun-centered point
for ineluctable orbit
of ethical knowledge
he fused metaphysics
with morals in his blunt
categorical imperative
for judging motivation
and gauging the truth
of virtue in action
as champion of civil liberties
he ushered embrace of
constitutional means
to self-ruling republics
by the then-breaking wave
of enlightenment
he still shores schools of ethics,
metaphysics, theology,
logic, epistemology,
even his critics are forced
to describe what’s non-Kantian
about their own precepts
I confess being smitten
with this sociable prodigy
loved by his students
respected by colleagues
his legacy vastly enriches
the human condition
“Act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.”
– Immanuel Kant, from “Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals”
Recommended readings:
◾Critique of Pure Reason
◾Critique of Practical Reason
◾Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics
◾What is Enlightenment?
(Originally posted here March 2013)
seek refuge from storms
in the comforting pain
of a violent skin
so handy to
private stiletto points
sharper than conscience
leaving prettier scars
than self-loathing
****
lacerate lightning
slice open thunder
with a flick of the wrist
snap-click to release
fierce relief
aboriginal steel
in glad grip of
psychotic pink fingers
****
stab hurricane hearts
carve the scorn from their winds
lay the blade
to mad voices
that roar in the maw
abjuring its meal
of calcified cold
autophobia
****
so why do they do it
excoriate beauty
slash foul raging thoughts
again and again drawing blood
I can only imagine
they do it because
it’s the chiseled-in-flesh
law of madness
Peter Notehelfer has written one of the finest poems to be found on WordPress – I encourage you to read his work
Episode #531: Stan Beppu
http://www.opb.org
The deep tympani rumbles
Signaling shifting tectonic plates
As all the while cellos & violas hold the tension
With their long slow bowing of deep rising rivers
Above them chattering violins put
A thousand insects to flight
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