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Aerolite Aerolite

         …to have been one with the earth seems beyond undoing.

                                Rilke

 

Beyond monadic quiet blizzard blacking river’s swans

insouciant éclat and sideral under knolling trees,

the glacial lees, eleatic exemplars of extensity’s

myth placed so as if opposite a cataract’s rote clots:

they are the holes prayed to between the wheeling snagging spokes,

the knelling holes between satanic gravity that give

never receive.

 

A mailbox within the woods much like a potter’s grave,

its equine head above the snow but soon to be inhumed:

so slow and sentient opening mouth (escaping mouse), its call

–To give or sate…To give or sate…—a repetend when wind

takes jaw.  What’s seen can never be unseen (so sad so sad):

a gelant light like night hind all, detritus of the past

extant yet gone.

 

A comet moving backwards towards its tail impossibly,

the socalled Now the evergrowing rocky mass.  Or this:

a spiral everrolling toward its feed, the socalled Now

ineffable, a thought between the spiral and the feed…

Look there, said Let to the initiates. We must forget

this saddest fact, that pure space into which flowers endlessly

open, and praise the Thing, the swans the flakes, more than

this dream permits.




Joseph Harms