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Showing posts from April, 2020

MORNING LIGHT

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MORNING LIGHT

Without mention of blossoms
Milosz gets the tree in the poem from translucent to laden with fruit.
Years passed, not months, while he slept, and that tree must have flowered many times.

In the same way, we turn over mid-dream or after love, those beautiful hours we know were passed in the company of genius but have forgotten in the particulars.

We know the tree stands for promise and for the desire, which comes much later, for atonement. We stand at the west-facing window and let the buildings opposite turn gold, then back to brick.
       (from Yellow Crane

ALL THAT WE HOLD

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Once upon a time I wrote a poem for a brilliant piece of music by composer Michael Leibson.

Here it is, performed by Yvette Tollar, with a few words by the composer

ALL THAT WE HOLD