Archive
05/16/10
The Mind of the Eye
This still-light Sunday night, As I sit at 10 p.m.'s dock end, Witnessing the culmination of another day of May's renascence,
Is an epiphany of such spiritual rapture, I find my tongue incapable of speaking my eye's divine mind, Expressing the ecstasy my psyche requires,
To define time not so much in calibrations of life and death As in caesuras of aesthetic astonishment, solitudinous interludes, Measurements of unadulterated delight, buoyant joy
Engendered by staring into a sky illumined by a crescent moon And its devoted evening star, Venus, Or by admiring common loons — two pairs and a lone widower —
Communicating their hoots, yodels, tremolos, and wails, From Bumble's Bay, in the east, to Honeymoon Point, just south, And Minnesuing Creek, due west, where sunsets rest, sleep...
Plaintive, elegiac, haunting, poignant calls So filled with a mixture of melancholy and jubilation That they pierce the deepest layers of my inspired soul.
And in a crucial moment of lucid truth as to who I am, I realize that telling myself I'll eventually need to go home Is tantamount to forgetting my name, losing my identity,
Since, at this very hour of this newest greening season, Home is right here, within inches of fish, at feeding, Barely breaking the eternal surface of the lake's maternal now — Mallards, mergansers, Canada geese landing on its soft ripples, Loons confiding to a sky alive with meteors. And now, I'm able to speak the divine mind of my eye.
05/16/10
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