Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Origins of Wednesday vii: Opposite my desk, in the morning

  One tear not yet large enough to spill,
  upwelling at the corner of an eye, may
  delve with a root of salt inside the tongue,
  and shimmer of it thrown among the stars go
  lightyears. Deeper art thou far beyond all
  shimmer in thy fathom, Father, O thou
  mindless, in the furthering of thy judgment.

       I learned the concept of
       moment with this device,
       which struck my father's
       putts in all the years I
       knew him: to be still,
       really still, and defer
       to the neutral disposi-
       tion of the stroke. To
       this day I am struck by
       the shimmering fairness
       and persistent intimacy       
       of that gorgeous game.
       I do not wonder how
       ingenious, countless 
       tests it draws one to
       engage, inspire the
       trust to be accepted.
       I wonder how one might
       meet all of them that 
       way, and I know the 
       presence of my father.

Brooks Haxton
  Antiphonies to Psalms
  Poems: One Tear
op. cit.

Telephone view, Laurent


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