Tuesday, October 28, 2003

More Hypersplenism

Despite being deeply moved this morning by Merton's poems "O Sweet Irrational Worship," and "Elegy for the Monastery Barn," and the passages from "Conjectures" about the point vierge, I finished my poem "Prime" as follows:


How the valley awakes.
T. Merton

The Trappists have been up for hours. I wake.
The fell of day drowns out the point vierge
again: the digital blares news, my brain
takes up where it left off -- commit, omit.
The world’s anathema. I cannot sit
zazen or still. My vallombrosa’s rain
is acid, black, and heaven’s concierge
has stamped my stub stigmata red: MISTAKE.

No comments: