Tuesday, May 03, 2016



As the light of Spring leaks into my dreams,
I gather the shadows of winters past
under the black wool coat on my shoulders,
a shelter for shy mirrors of moonlight.

A mountain, up close, is not how you imagined.
Its profile alters inexplicably with each step.
Just above the rocky cliffs, a gray ribbon,
a lone eagle, flickering in the wind.

Never had I been seized by the charms of Egypt,
aside from a passing fancy for hieroglyphs,
yet now a pyramid shimmers in stippled carpet,
and Anubis lurks in the paisley of my quilt.

Though I plunk along on an untuned piano,
the ghost of Schubert appears, undeterred.
I am alone, I declare. But I overhear the murmurs
of Ivan and Alyosha among the sticky leaves.





                                                                                                 















En plein air - in memoriam Andrew Bellon

A dreamless sleep falls from the shimmering leaves. --Sappho fragment, tr. Andrew Bellon I changed, thickened, ...

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