my Art: two halfs
the great poems of our elders in many tongues we struggled to comprehend who are now content with mystery simple and profound you in the night your breath your body orbit of time and the moment you Phosphorus and Hesper a dark circle of fertility so bloodthirsty for us you in the world the night breathing asleep and alive.
we may meet,
the quiet places where is neither
moon nor sun,
but only the light of amber and
that comes from the Hills of
“In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.”
"Longing For You"
© Renee Hohler /primitivesouls
All Rights Reserved
"September fattens on vines.
Roses flake from the wall.
The smoke of harmless fires drifts to my eyes.
This is plenty. This is more than enough.”
- Geoffrey Hill, September Song
flew next to the car before darting out
across the fields. I thought it was you. Each
word, each gesture, is a feather for our wings. Later,
I ran down that mountain and landed in your name.
Oh the sweetness of flowers in memory of caresses
And the fiery lava flowing
Slowly from your eyes
Slowly into my veins
A visage in the crowd
Among so many others multiplied by our looks
You who could have been another
And who cancels green wood memories
In my burned out autumn
—Fatéma Chahid, “Escape,” translated from the French by Hafsa Bekri-Lamrani, Prague Writers’ Festival (2014)