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I like these narratives you've been doing Frederick. They +work+ man,
and that's what counts, not their theoretical correctness.

Best

Dave

2008/6/11 Frederick Pollack <[log in to unmask]>:
> Ancient Scroll
>
>
> A poet was staying in a far pavilion.
> His friend, a philosopher, came to visit.
> The philosopher left his mule, supplies, and servant
> in a shack at the foot of the mountain.
> The servant was afraid, for these mountains
> were known to be haunted.  But he
> was loyal, and the master comforted him,
> then began to climb the steps cut in the stone.
> Wind battered him, but he gripped the wall
> and kept his eyes on the peaks.  And with
> each step, the rock of the staircase
> cried out in pain because the tread
> of the philosopher was too firm, and the wind
> shrieked because his posture was too erect.
> But he said to the wind, Frail as I am
> you shall not carry me off, and to the stone,
> I cut these steps in you, or my servant did,
> so I might visit a friend.  And the wind
> howled, for his thought was too cold,
> and the rock because it was too solid,
> and they asked, Are you not supposed
> to be wise and realize you're one with us?
> And the master said, I'm one with you
> in death, but separate myself
> with every step.  He had reached by now
> the windless ledge where the poet lived,
> and the poet came out to greet him.
> One wall of the pavilion was mountain rock.
> So was the table where the poet wrote.
> Ceremoniously, the friends drank.
> Tipsy, they walked to the cliff-edge
> and watched birds of prey
> circle.  The gods, perhaps,
> mused the philosopher.  Strange, said the poet,
> I thought they were vultures.  Laughing,
> they agreed the moment had the makings
> of a poem.  Returning indoors, however,
> the master saw that the poet's bowl
> of ink was empty.  He cried,
> I could have brought you some
> from the city!  But the poet, smiling,
> struck with the point of a stylus
> that lump of mountain where he worked,
> and ink flowed into his bowl.
>



-- 
David Bircumshaw
Website and A Chide's Alphabet http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/
The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
Leicester Poetry Society: http://www.poetryleicester.co.uk