Poem of the Month

consciousness

        in itself

of itself carrying

    'the principle

        of the actual' being

actual

itself ((but maybe this is a love 

poem

Mary) ) nevertheless

        neither

the power

of the self nor the racing 

car nor the lilly

        is sweet but this   -George Oppen

Posted in doubt, oppen, poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Write, Writer, writing | 3 Comments

3 Responses

1. on 01/30/2008 at 10:03 am The Mindful Window

   Hello. 🙂

   I find this poem interesting because it forces the reader, or at least me, to seperate the ideas of what it means for something to be beautiful, exciting, inspiriting and just “being”.

   I am finding that as I open myself up more and more to the world and the people in it, I become more aware of what is going on in progessively deeper layers. And because I’m starting to really feel out those deeper layers, I feel more connected to things on a natural level. Clarity and general feelings of relief just start washing over me and thru me.

   It’s not a forced will sort of thing though. I just try to be in the moment that I’m in, without intelectualizing any real outcome. I find that when I approach each minute of my life like this, I’m able to gain bits of insight as to what is really happening in a situation, including the latent things. I find harmony within myself and my environment, regardless of what’s happening. When I interject things like will, that’s when the dynamic of my scene seems to fade.

   Here’s the most recent example from my life:
   To get to the center of town, I have to cross a bridge. Under that bridge is, of course, a body of water. This one happens to be a river.

   So, I’m crossing this body of water, and I notice the local ducks that like to hang out there by the bridge. Well, I love ducks, so I decided to take a gander at what they were up to. I had no real objective in mind. I just felt a pull to observe them. From the minute I opened myself without reason to that scene, I began to experience wonderful things. I could feel and notice the hard, choppy wind on the cold river sliding over it. The water looked like dragon scales. I could feel the power of that dragon tail river as it flexed it’s feminine curves into the fading distance.

   The next layer came about: I saw powerful duck bodies swimming up those scales. I could feel their power coming from their hind sections as I watched them wiggle up that current. Powerful, agile bodies that were as graceful and flexible as a paper sailboat. I could feel the peerless focus from their eyes as they floated up the dragon. They had become guards on duty- guards with a mission.

   The 3rd layer: I followed those duck eyes that led up the dragon. I was in that water as one of them feeling ducky. In a rib, upstream, nestled, were other ducks. Ducks relying on ducks. The grey/blue sky and green tree above them sank slowly, slowly into the serpentine river. Paper ducks nestled in a paper sky.

   Then, there was no river at all. There was no tree or sky, duck or bridge. The descriptions were gone. Will was gone. Beauty was gone. Excitement was gone. There was just being.

   That was Monday, Janurary 7th of 2008. The entire day was like that. It was the truely one of the greatest days I’ve had in over a year.

   
   
2. on 01/30/2008 at 11:15 am Paul

   I’ve been missing you, even when away from the screen.
   I bought W.S. Merwin’s The Rain in the Trees. It is mercilessly voluptuous.
   Glad you are back!
   Paul

   
   
3. on 01/30/2008 at 11:21 am Paul

   Far Company
   by W. S. Merwin

   At times now from some margin of the day
   I can hear birds of another country
   not the whole song but a brief phrase of it
   out of a music that I may have heard
   once in a moment I appear to have
   forgotten for the most part that full day
   no sight of which I can remember now
   though it must have been where my eyes were then
   that knew it as the present while I thought
   of somewhere else without noticing that
   singing when it was there and still went on
   whether or not I noticed now it falls
   silent when I listen and leaves the day
   and flies before it to be heard again
   somewhere ahead when I have forgotten

   
   

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