Eratio


 

 

 

Five Poems

 

margareta waterman

 

 

 

 

after the One

then there are many

 

each a piece of the harmony

 

intrinsic to the One

of which the One is made

 

miraculously separable

for the living ear

 

each jewel and flower

alone and in combination

(numbers never end:

 

from any point

complexity builds into the whole

 

uncountable and never-ending

summated into One

 

into many

 

and in between

into all possible songs

 

as mixes multiply and combinations

become song after song after Song

 

one of many and all of One

 

                                                  nov 2015

 

 

 

 

 

from chaos

the gradually defining order

 

coherence

assimilates

 

particles swirling

no tabula rasa

 

raw reality is teeming

swirls into intrinsic geodesic shape

 

every swirl a new shuffle

hysteresis inevitable

 

accretion

follows

 

pattern — the trails of history —

echoes throughout

 

 

the roots of time lie beneath

ruthless movement before anything

 

 

 

 

 

the arrows of the owls

 

song of dancing

                  in a direction

with or without a purpose

 

waving dancing on

                  smooth and fancy

changing high and low

         up and down

 

as it flies past into morning

 

 

dancing line in its own direction

         up and down

         and maybe side to side

 

any vector makes a path

as long as you want it to

and then not

 

 

owls know how to fly

arrows tend to be

                  a trifle rigid

         best be dancing

on a flight like this

         best be flying

 

best be flying

best be dancing

 

with or not a purpose

 

arrow coupling into feathers

muscle-powered wings

         inertia-fired arrow

 

piercing the wind

 

 

 

 

 

dark river red and black

river of sorrow and blood

running beneath all beauty

 

without blood or water

awake without blood or water

eyes behold everything

 

full youthful blood

feels good, blind pleasure

no uncetainty

 

boring, that is, and trite

shallow innocence

long before beauty, this cheap confidence

 

 

dark river runs through

washing last drops from vein and artery

breathless and empty

 

if you don’t know

         your way around

                  the world of sorrow

what good can you be?

 

 

bloodless and breathless

defeated by pain

or life is wasted

 

no song bur advertising jingles

unself-questioning smiles, ignorance,

cover for all the petty drivel

 

pebbles, sprays, fountains

unconsidered fluids

voided unedited from empty mouths

 

knowing this —

what lack of taste

would choose

 

to avoid

         the occasion

of sorrow and pain?

 

 

 

 

 

endless page of space

splashes of light taking their own time

 

light seen more than by which to see

 

nothing to see, only splashes of light

and whatever might be in them

 

 

inhabiting the huge emptiness

passing scattered splashes

 

expanding with the darkness, the everywhere

passing scattered somewheres

 

undisturbed infinity

scattered settlements unimportant

 

constant endless expanding uninhabited pool

available to any mind

 

all minds meet in this non-existent empty endlessness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

margareta waterman is poet and performer, publisher and producer, and founder of nine muses booksmargareta waterman at Wikipedia

 

 

 


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