The first picture: "Ironic Eclipse". (I think I already posted this picture a while back.) Second picture: "Seek The Incomplete Eclipse". Third picture: "Distant Eclipse". Last picture: "An Eclipse Of Whispers".
It Is Not
-----------
This engulfed sphere, it does not resemble
A butterfly's wing or a simulation of a
Shattered oxymoron. It does not contain
The fluids of wind and life or love. It
Does not believe in triumph or temper.
And is does never growl. For, the curvature
Of the eclipse, it does not elongate, nor
Does it proclaim it is insane. And it is
Neither purposeful nor pungent. But yet
It is not quite quiet. For, it is not
A constituent of anything, but still it is.
Still it denies it is grotesque, denies
It is conforming, denies it is lumpy.
But somehow it is careless, or is it not?
Or is it transforming via the plagiarism
Of molecules, via its absence, via its
Shapelessness surely shallow?
++++++++++++
My Shadow
-----------
My breath became my shadow. From my teeth, from
My corpse, the string flowed outwardly and into
That monochromatic and blurry silhouette. And
This darkness observed itself within me. And I
Became its translucency. For, my image glows
In its colors, in its shapes. But my shadow, it
Concerns itself with my dead truncation. It
Collapses into its suffocation among the cloth,
Among the magnificent tableaux. It flows through
The wisps of such a dim corona. It hides in its
Eclipse. For it is tempted by my own reverberation.
And I am surely distracted with this optical echo,
With the complicated nihilism I invoke via the light.
Yes, I am grasped by that umbilical, by that wind
Diffracted obtusely.
==========
A New Moon At Midnight
------------------------
A new moon at midnight, seen not by this
Eye above us nor by that which stares upwards
From below our human silt -- It soothes
The sanity we inflict. It stings the vastness
Within our refracted selves. And it perceives
The Earth to be translucent. For we are indeed,
Are surely strangely inert in our beauty, yes.
Ah, and the sun too evades its own shimmer.
But, unlike those lunar arctangents of introverted
Screams, the glow rises swiftly from the smoke
Of time.
Ah, unlike the eclipse yet synonymous with purity,
These starlit days provoke our parables, provoke
Our whispers unpronounced by any such air, provoke
Our whispers uninspired anew by any other amber.
...................
Any Ellipsoid Of Any Darkness
-------------------------------
The ellipsoidal shadow is drawn upon miniscule light.
And in its shade is my indifference, is my forgetfulness,
Is each thought unmade and unpronounced. I behold
What I have held above my brain. And then
I overwhelm the sacred night; for it is dead in its
Magnitudes, in its treason. And, thus, the dawn obscures
That moon without eclipse. And yet I see its blackness
Ascending to its own torment. Thus, the earth transforms
A dim tantrum into such a sky. But I know that
Beyond every hexagon is eternity truncated surely.
Beyond every angry tear is our reality soothed.
Oh, this truth has parted from all humanity.
And it flies past every shadow of any shape,
Past any ellipsoid of any darkness once periodic,
Once afloat in the cosmic shame of our understanding.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Earthen Eclipse
-----------------
And daylight entwined itself with that dawn, with
The world below us, beneath our dim and uncertain aura.
As our earth of our antipode was lit, its entirety
Put us inside its shadow. For here we are yet
Always darker than the dusk, than the collapse
Of sky's fire and curvature's flames. Here we
Suffer from our own death, from the spell of
Vain demons each extraordinary in their falsehood.
Oh, daylight entwined itself with the sea and stone
Of fragrant forgetfulness. And upward it flew,
Downward it abstained, sideways it became
But my own night, it became but my sleep unwoken.
For, in this absurd dream I am
Angry and jagged and enraged; I am gazing
At a sky without stars, at a sun without any
Corona or glow, gazing at the hollowness which
Entices me, which equals our umbra coarsely betrayed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Mind's Eclipse
--------------------
The mind's eclipse darkens its breadth, becoming
This futility and its awkward thoughts. It
Encroaches upon my dream; it is that synopsis
Of hungry epitome extracted from the sand
Of entropy and ghastly randomness. Yes,
It provokes the sleep of nights traversed,
Provokes the daylight to distract ourselves
From the curvature of illumination and
Syzygy. Oh, the eclipse of my spirit, it is
Stranger than what I observe within the
Implosive scribbles each anemic and
Conjoined. For in this tangle I wake, I
Utter the syllables of ugliness and aesthetics.
In this occultation I embrace those tremors,
I reshape the skies' frightening odor so as
To never stare at any moon above such
An earthly crescent superceding.
ooooooooooooo
Above Each Eclipse
---------------------
A solstice dreamt, above each eclipse it is beheld.
Above these dark metaphors it returns the sky again
To a gibbous circle inside where the slender sun
Excludes its crescent crescendo from our fantasies.
For from our sleep is our world reconciled. From
This revolving carousel of tilt and curvature, there
We once grasped the superstitious diagonals drawn,
Once grasped the ellipsoid falling and spinning --
Because we too were vertical. And then, then
The cold solstice woke again our calculation. Because
We are now imprisoned. We are now thrown
And flung farther than ourselves; thus, the
Metronome of our youthfulness becomes its parallax,
Becomes such subdivided reality of human delineation.
*******************
For This Moon Was
--------------------------
Already ...
The points of useless dimension
Were heard carefully and inaccurately
Among the severed and sterile stars,
Among the eclipses of time, of space, of all.
And from these were spawned
Reality and its lover:
Dreams only invisible, sight
Only imagined, only known
Within its chaos and its darkest light.
For this moon was seen again
In incorrect skies; the sun had
Traversed geodesics quite ironic.
But this was not disquieting.
This was not our frightened inspiration.
Because the twisted science within
Each silent mind unknowing
And sleeping, it is the truest
Of unexpected contortions, the
Falsest of mathematics somehow
(In some ways) making sense, making itself
Into every revelation uncontained.
????????????????
My first poem about eclipses, I think:
Eclipse
---------
If the moon passed behind the sun,
Hid from us and our minds,
Then would we finally discover
That we have been foolish in our belief
That we are only dreaming
Just before the dawn, awaking
Precisely as the hue of the light touching
Our bedroom window, changes irreversibly
Just for each of us, but never for any other?
Thanks,
Leroy Quet
No comments:
Post a Comment