Thanks, one and all, for the reading, and the C & C (does it mean comment &
criticsism? I've sort of assumed that's what C & C means...).

Yeh, Ryfkah, poetry as a theme... That could be so. I guess I was just
trying to describe how things can seem between two people - but it could be
that it's also saying things about an individual and other things...
And brandy, Anne, H'm... I like that description...
The Borges comment, James, is because of a poem of his that's called, I
believe, South. Because I live "up north" - yet where I live feels "south"
to other places I've lived - I sort of became attracted to his poem. I've
tried to write between his opening line and his closing line (and, as it
turned out, relate to the things he saw).
I think I'll take up the comments you mention alongside the text as well
(and Bunny's comment, too).
And the title? Well, I don't know where mine came from! It just came and I
thought, "Yes" because I sensed the whole mood of the piece was an interplay
of what's dark and what's light and it seems to get to a point of
discovery/awareness/enlightenment in some kind of way.
So, thanks t y all.
Bob


Bob Cooper <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: The Enlightening
>Date: Sat, 13 Jul 2002 00:30:25 +0000
>
>Another poem for C & C:
>(where, as always seems to be the case, the words between asterics *are
>meant to be in italics*)
>
>THE ENLIGHTENING
>a poem stretched between an opening
>and a closing line of Borges
>
>*To have watched from one of your patios*
>on an evening dry of conversation the ancient stars
>from the old bench that creaks like trees
>that sound like an ocean and draw in darkness
>
>where all the words I know are indoors
>hidden in trembling fridges, crowded in darkness,
>patiently waiting to reveal their colours,
>damp or crisp as they wait for fingers and noise,
>
>and leaning back, watching those lights beyond lights
>while knowing I know no names for their movements,
>their stillness, their places in constellations
>or the flickering created by their distances
>
>and to have noticed the lushness of water
>pouring like joy from your bathroom beside the droop
>of lustering jasmine and honeysuckle, their scent
>slow as talcum powder seeping to the earth,
>
>and to hear its gentle flow under the manhole,
>soft on its gradual tilt towards blueness, and clouds
>seen slowly from space, that lift it, nurse it,
>while I’m stood on the rust of its lettering,
>
>where my shoes, rocking on the imprints,
>scuff as all that moves, all that’s rarely said
>flows beneath all that’s between us
>- *these things perhaps are the poem.*
>
>
>Bob Cooper
>
>
>
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