St. Michael, Altenstadt (Bavaria)
The way I move
through these flowing
autumn days
breath eat sleep
make arrangements
touch someone's face
turn the leaves of journals
an acrobat gingerly on his high wire --
and only
the angel
in the mighty light
of the fresco
is holding his breath
Monday, October 26, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
European Signs I Woefully Misread
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Do not give flowers. |
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The American dream (a car, house, and children) is strictly prohibited. |
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Jump the shark. |
An Epitaph - Callimachus (trans. William Johnson Cory)
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept as I remembered how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept as I remembered how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
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