Wednesday, June 26, 2013


     — Inspired by the poetry of Denise Levertov

Unspoken superlatives hang, mid-air,
as if unplucked pears dangling from spent stems,
waiting to fall to thin, browned soil,
fruit never to be tasted, nor praised in song.

O fearless star, your light glides from ancient promises
now kept in silence, unknown to the scattered dust
to which they were fervently vowed, how still and bright
is this requiem you offer to their progeny.

You hover near the curious, waning moon, furious to reach out
and caress what once was and is no longer flesh.

Bare branches stir from wind's sudden gestures,
then cease to move; unchanged (they think), yet quietly sculpted
without knowledge as though rocks glaring brilliantly
beneath a stream's desire for alterations, patient.

Fragrances of ages swirl around us, unbidden,
yet we are scented
as they storm toward a different horizon
than their ancestors ever imagined.

How bold we are, to stand with furrowed brows,
declaring our inepitude as grace,
our obsolesence as fame,
our temporary presence as permanent indentations -
only simple scars left upon an unforgiving earth
replete with memories of her own
to squander on faithless nights.