Trevor,
I admit to loving to (m)utter those texts without really 'understanding' any
of them, unless 'understanding' can be said to be emotional / physical
rather than intellectual. I've saved all those posts for future scrutiny.
Best
Árni
--
Árni Ibsen
Stekkjarkinn 19,
220 Hafnarfjördur,
Iceland
tel.: +354-555-3991
e-mail: [log in to unmask]
http://www.centrum.is/~aibsen/
on 10/2/03 10:19 PM, Trevor Joyce at [log in to unmask] wrote:
> Douglas Barbour
>> 'It's too late to stop now'
>
> Down with a slight fever today (I have terminal hypochondria), so two more:
>
> 26
>
> Morning,
> I scale
> the precipice;
> evening,
> descry
> remote massifs.
>
> Thorn-brush
> invades
> the plain below,
> gregarious
> birds
> flicker up.
>
> In solitude
> the phoenix
> dwells,
> discharging
> the inheritance
> of its kind.
>
> Heaven and earth
> are by a single tree
> conjoined;
> account
> all other plants
> mere show.
>
> Around,
> through forest
> undergrowth,
> the fattening
> bindweed twines
>
> ***
>
> (By way of self-exoneration, this is generally taken as one of the most
> obscure & resistant to interpretation; I've relied on commentary)
>
> 70
>
> Would you
> shun grief?
> Then eschew
> sense:
>
> only the insensate
> never grieves.
> Fall to no nets?
> Need no effects.
>
> Pitiful eddies
> spin against
> the jetstream.
> By light of suns
> the rainbow lives
> and dies.
>
> Ashes
> for heart,
> withered
> the frame;
> can yet
> humanity
> attract?
>
> I have achieved
> remission
> from the world;
> how now
> without display
> efface?
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