Читать книгу The Hatching of the Heart - Margo Swiss - Страница 7

“The generative source of poetry is in silence and darkness.”

(George Whalley, The Poetic Process)

From silence

the tidal curve of nothingness

this reckoning, stone with stone, falls

on sticks, on brittle tips of things.

A frill of light spokes and spears in air.

Touched by it, the barren trunks relent

melting, blaze luminous,

fire without heat.

Shaggy bulbs conceal their carpelled selves,

abound in sips, a shivery cool,

while sun with ranging ribs

breathes its light

engendering green.