Enflamed

enflamed
Originally uploaded by selkie.

I am stunned by the beauty of Selkie's work. This lady has that elusive quality of the highest genius.

Say my name:

I am the window, the face of the eye
staring at the birds whirling past
into the clouds spreading rain, hiding
the stars, the hands that burning keep me,
falling away from the stone and the trace.

Say my name:
I am the air that breathes cold music
into the met breast of the nightingale;
Listen to the song of the candle;
Lose yourself in the rose, that dark
Creched intelligence of the universe,

And say my name,
Tell me who I am:
You, who, have known me before I was ever spun.

Speaking of Chessboards

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The pieces have lost their significance:
The hand must move over them, beyond
The board into the face not a face,
Into the realm of fluxing land unrooted
By the death mask of logic’s light.

The melodies of flesh no longer lie
In the moving of the passing music:
Our shadows burn too vivid, too false
To show how pure is our impurity.
Burn this idle hunger, pierce the ribs

Of history’s barn, look, stretch beyond,
Behind the masque. This game will never end,
Begun, will never move past that is,
White and Black, both boned as pregnant
As the un-carved hands of the all-known.

Copyright ã 1986-2005 Pilgermann BM