Tag: Fortnight
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Secret Knowledge.
I. The water cold, granting lungfuls of air,Borrows mother’s warmthIn its undulas.And in its level does itRaise all fairGrains:Sand grains — low onto yon field of brass. II. Sight ill directed,Along the smooth curvesImpressed on memory. Nay,Mammary,Nay, recollections,Long gone; yet stillServes nervous purposes —PreservatoryOf that quality, whereinThe sclera,That whiteness of the eyesIs captured full.To displaced…
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Ege’nin Meyveleri.
On Ege, the curtain withdraws.Lo: the dramatis personiThey bow, with fruits in hand. ApplauseEchoes from mounds, is dampe’ed by sea.Tarkan, Emel, Selcen, Lena,And Bar’ş bow. Mist cloaks Aegina.Bariş emerges from back of stage,Fore papered dağs and blue-lit skies.He pulls, in good post perch, a page,And guerdons crowd with moral prize.The barking dog and twitt’ring birdWhose…
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Dancing to the Beats of a Wave.
I. Some speculate that the Earth is still,While the sun circumscribes the horizon.Others, in the plurimos molecular configurationsOf water see rotations and vibrations, andShort, jagged displacements of the bumbling bee’s navigation.And the water moves to and fro in its silence.The world — or at least everything in it —Is in a constant state of dance.The…
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The Lost Aegean Droplet.
Water is the first of philosophers, travelingThrough one vessel to another, recreatingItself in the form of man. And one man upon anotherIn the game of checkers, or that of Simon,Wherein we copy and heed that word, expelledFrom the mouth of a confident boy, learning to trustItself for the first time; It is peculiar how powerfulAn…
Derbeel Q8 