from Jack Spicer in Glasgow
The Bay
Restless in its endless presence
Like the older brother that rises
But does not hit you. To flinch deeply
Is to bear pain for the rest of your life.
A place called "Commonweal" works to ease:
One leaves life or re-enters. There are no
Second facts: each one is primary
"The ghost of a chance." She was liberated
In the last act. We forget or donšt
Want to remember why she died. Her
White sheath of a dress shimmers
Across the stage. Redemption rips open
The wolf on the mask. We trust the blood
A light trickle streaming down one cheek
Someone had thrown a beer bottle across the streets
Of Glasgow. That drunk running down
The cobbles. That is not the blood we witnessed
Nor the saints, one by one (1575) thrown
Down from the Church. Nor the manuscripts
Burned. The angels were shaking and shining the leaves
On the upper, Northern, un-downed trees:
How to pray and avoid clear-cutting (this forest)
In the same instant: once born
Creatures the small light glimmering those tiny leaves
Memory.
Stephen Vincent
http://stephenvincent.net/blog/
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