Monday, January 10, 2005

From "Another Night in the Ruins" by Galway Kinnell 4 Wind tears itself hollow in the eaves of my ruins, ghost-flute of snowdrifts that build out there in the dark: upside-down ravines into which night sweeps our torn wings, our ink-spattered feathers 5 I listen. I hear nothing. Only the cow, the cow of nothingness, mooing down the bones. 6 Is that a rooster? He thrashes in the snow for a grain. Finds it. Rips it into flames. Flaps. Crows. Flames bursting out of his brow. 7 How many nights must it take one such as me to learn that we aren't, after all, made from that bird which flies out of its ashes, that for a man as he goes up in flames, his one work is to open himself, to be the flames? ___________________________________ [O the cow of nothingness... (googled cow/snow image; lost the URL)I love this poem, especially these last four strophes. All I ever wanted to do, all I want to do, is to open myself and be the flames. A friend of mine from many years ago once sent me a "Dear Jane" letter where he quotes someone--who?--saying "feed your head or burn it." He ended with "I go now to light the fire." I think he's in import-export now. Big money. Anyway, I'm serious. I just need lessons. Or matches.] 2:11:36 PM    comment []