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Polar mesospheric cloud (bright noctilucent cloud over Lake Saimaa): photo by Mika Yrjölä, 2003
Big clown-faced parallel infinity
you cried into my false twilight
a moon cupped in your creamwhite hands
poured milky awareness over me
more to feed my dream than to drown my fear
your tears blurry with repetitiveness
pearly sand grains scattered over that mandrake
root shaped cloud mass, opening into night
as if out through the motion space
of a two-way mirror, to where those planets
open into that lake
that ocean
you cried into my false twilight
a moon cupped in your creamwhite hands
poured milky awareness over me
more to feed my dream than to drown my fear
your tears blurry with repetitiveness
pearly sand grains scattered over that mandrake
root shaped cloud mass, opening into night
as if out through the motion space
of a two-way mirror, to where those planets
open into that lake
that ocean
Crepuscular rays and clouds over the Pacific: photo by Mila Zinkova, 2006
12 comments:
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my infinite dreams
give birth to my fears
my oceanic night
gives birth to my tears
.
Beautiful images.Beautiful drawing together of words and feelings.Beautiful closing of her curtains 'those planets open into that lake that ocean'
So long tom, really nice poem I liked it, there is kind of a coincidence cause a friend of mine made a post related to yours, but on scientific tone.
http://imaginingthetenthdimension.blogspot.com/2009/11/polls-archive-49-are-we-3d-sphere-on-4d.html I show you just as a curiosity.
Nice to be in touch again
M
Infinite dreams, curtains of night, oceanic tears and fears seem to be affecting the weather here this week.
I've been thinking about this:
"Only if carried through radically can the objective withdrawal of projections prove its true value. First one must withdraw the primary projection upon the ego itself as the sole carrier of consciousness achieved through reflection. This leads to immersion in the projected field, surrendering to it in love, entering into it to such an extent that one becomes oneself a projection of the imaginal realm and one's ego becomes a fragment of a myth." --James Hillman, The Myth of Analysis
Becoming an ego fragment sounds maybe a bit painful, but I like the fly-on-the-wall aspects; and too, I can think of few pleasures more desirable that that of being wept under the mythic rug, with all the other scattered ego fragments for company. (It's what misery loves, after all.)
i like it too...
Change of pace
"noctilucent" what a geat word
noctilucent love
Well, my friends, "pleasures more desirable that that of being wept" were words typed late in the life and poorly -- I meant to say "than that of being swept" -- but as sometimes happens, the slip probably told the true story.
And HB, I think you did get what I meant. And I do like it too, this great and perhaps undeserved gift, this sense of other souls being present, in this one life we have (he wept...and laughed inwardly).
Yes, Charles, I too love that word that means "night shining..."
Anything to lighten this darkness that surrounds us.
So Mariana, what do you think, are we in the third dimension, fourth, or tenth?
Could there not be many, many more?
.
i walk alone
but my path is not alone
it is haunted by some other souls
and we pass through each other
overlapping
becoming one
as we pass by one another...
.
wrote this some months ago...
i really see what you mean...
and... weeping and sweeping are so close to each other...
the movement... also the result of the action... are the same...
just compare the images in your mind...
i loved the typo...
:)
Noctilucent Love
for Anne who
admired DH
Lawrence,Taos
lovers in the night illumine the
dawn
dawn lovers silhouette in the sunrise
the sun flatters the lovers with
a dance of yellowjackets around
their nectar,amongst the clean
juniper and pinyon pine
dusk is long in the long horizon
the moon is noctilucent
they are not tired
they are at the center of the universe
Charlie,
Ah that sharp clean scent of juniper and pinyon, the impossible high purity and clarity of the air, the colors of the land, the vast morning spaces, Following Rivers into the Night
Hb,
There's a moment
when you pass through
your angel
and become the creature
not of the two
but of the fact you are
beyond any chance involved
with another figure who is you
And the moment you pass through
you are then something
that that angel was
and no longer
the thing that you are
.
yes
no longer
the thing i am
thus
living longer
:)
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