Thursday, February 25, 2010

As the Sun Sets




“Insects are born from the sun. They are the sun’s kisses”
-Alexander Scriabin,
on his 10th sonata, known as the “Sonata of Insects”

When the great sun sinks
low into the Josephinal fields, where
sticker-weed tears the feet
and Johnson Grass stands like hunkered
drunks, full of that green, sticky
alcohol, the summer insects
sing the last call. All Insects are born

from the sun. They are the sun’s
kisses, calling back to her with trilled
cadences— lamenting her decent.
And when she lowers herself,
Steadily down into her western bed,
They dance among the great-boozed grasses,
Rubbing legs and eyes for her return.
________________________________
Today's song's are: Scriabin's 10th Sonata, and Julie Lee's "Will There Really be a Morning", adapted from the following Dickinson poem.
-
Will there really be a "Morning"?
Is there such a thing as "Day"?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
-
Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?
-
Oh some Scholar!
Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!
_____________________________________________________

3 comments:

  1. This is exactly as written in the first draft. It needs editing. Particularly, I believe, around lines six and seven.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yeah. I don't understand lines six and seven, but I think that the poem is very good. The meter and length is balanced, the metaphors flow like something better than water, and the images are beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh my. Thank you. I just took out those lines. I think it works better.

    ReplyDelete