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Dawn Moon: photo by Tom Raworth, 31 May 2010
what is done
in the dark
the night
clocks out
dew on
the grass
one thought
singing
to itself
or someone
else
of a great
undoneness
in the dark
the night
clocks out
dew on
the grass
one thought
singing
to itself
or someone
else
of a great
undoneness
Dew drops on a spider web: photo by Jörg Hempel, 2007
7 comments:
Tom,
you may do in the dark
What the day doth forbid:
Feare not the dogs that barke,
Night will have all hid. . .
-- Campion, A Booke of Ayres, XIX
5.25
light coming into sky above black plane
of ridge, moon going down behind branch
in foreground, sound of wave in channel
these are at once, alphabet
arrangements of color
margin, corner between legs
of table, turned over
blinding silver edge of sun above ridge,
cloudless blue sky to the left of point
Who gets
to go as far
as it can
and maybe further
but still
wake up
in time
to a treat
of fresh
negotiation
something new
on the table
to be looking
out for
What a beautiful dawn moon, witness to all the thoughts sang in the dark, solo for one, about to be unfastened to the morning. Rare moments 'entre chien et loup' when the night is not anymore and the day is not yet. Time to tidy up those disordered ideas. After breakfast maybe.
birth of day, all
undone nests before us
Something very plaintive in that thought song. All that undoneness.
Tidying-up is such an endless chore, sigh.
It's almost impossible to stay on top of it.
And who do you suppose is responsible for the cleaning-up at Flula's house?
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