(Re-creation of the exercise from Thursday's class)
17 initial lines molded to the theme of the movement of sea turtles
Mayhem does not reign over this molecular water-ride
whose scenery holds keys to enciphered journeys across the sea;
migrations forever overcoming the screeching of friction
by giving into currents continuously, in double 12-hour shifts.
Each year is congruent: reflective, symmetric, transcendent.
He who condemned Io to its infernal fate ignored
the silently gliding sea turtle migrations, finitely primitive
and infinitely now. With the aid of extra men,
strategic use of sleeping pills, and ship-to-ship refueling,
we try to grasp their habits. But the world is round,
revolving endlessly in strands of earthly activity
forever beyond understanding. Not everything is expressed
in John's testimony, "The word becomes flesh".
Are their eyes fond of blues and spheres, snowflakes
of an almost stellar realm? Do they digest their meals
for a billion years, speaking in tones deeper
than the limits of human hearing? I would turn the moon inside out
to weave the web of water into which they cluster.
No comments:
Post a Comment