Leaves of bonsai Bodhi droop
Over computer screen. Buddha
Of bronze under Norfolk pine.
Christmas cactus un-bloomed.
Dead English ivy turning
To dust. I touched the quill on
Saint John of the Cross
Statue. In monastery
Where it was made
They poked a finger bone
Of San Juan de la Cruz’s
Onto the plaster poet.
T.S. Eliot Reading “The Wasteland”
On Youtube:
Transmissions
From the past
And hot coffee
As I wait to turn to ash.
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About Me
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2014
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August
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- In which my Puritan ancestor visits me in a waking...
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- Ecclesiastes 12:7 by Joseph Hargraves
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- "poetry reading" by Steve Calamars
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7 comments:
so much imagery in so few words, beautiful!
This is very well written. Looking forward to the next one!
The details and imagery give the reader a snapshot view. Beautifully done!
Trisha
Wow. I was glad to see the name, Joseph Hargraves. I remember reading some of his work back in the late 80's. He's a really talented writer. I hope to see more of his work on here. thanks.
This disquieting augury required many readings before its odd logic began to bother and amuse me. Wikipedia was a godsend, as usual. More, please!
Joe O.
I enjoyed this mournful yet lovely expression of our shared mortality.
Lovely and extraordinarily mournful reflection on our shared mortality. -Kimberly
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