Epigrams for Giant in the Cradle

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Epigrams for Giant in the Cradle
Nov 142013
Life exists to pay attention to other people.

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,	
    And out of the caverns of rain,	
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,	
    I arise and unbuild it again.
~~P. B. Shelley

 is a race to beauty,
				and I
am an engine quick
	with fire.
~~Daniel Weeks

I pursue the vireo's theme.
~~Lord Dermond

Pitiless verse?  A few words tuned
And tuned and tuned and tuned.
~~Wallace Stevens

Introduction to Giant in the Cradle

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Introduction to Giant in the Cradle
Nov 142013

The summer sun
Knows when its bright business
With buds is done

Summer comes warmly into our lives, a promise of autumn’s plenty. A surfeit of all our globe can give of daily joys expands in a benign inflation of lighted hours. Night herself calls us forth to wander under soothing breezes, zophtic zephyrs–and we walk into our dreams with ease. Constellations keep us company, just as, during the day, fleets of trees in full sail share their leafy magnificence with us–the fresh shade of dark branch and leaf, their chipper chatter following us as we wend our way.

Gregg Glory
August 2013

To Forget About the Self

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on To Forget About the Self
Nov 142013
This spirit of mine is something unstudied, 
Inexorable and white, alive in solemn permanence.
~~Lord Dermond

To forget about the self at the self's
Uttermost extent;  it is the self
Made a self at last.
To survive in vigor
The confinement of the eye,
The glistering pinhole through which
The self is summoned
As by a bronze gong
Until all the air is peacock feathers
Is one way--in wild trial--
That the self, and its amiable 
Particulars may be forgotten.
Cheered onward in a doubtful dark
By numerous rumoring murmurs
And silken sibilances, as if

Drawn on by a forceful river
Tumbling a blind man downstream
To the sound of thickening confusion

Is another way for the self to go,
On and on, on and on,
In dark discovery.
To feel our broadening sexual silks
Pulled and pulled, as through
A pinhole, through the self
And out of the self and into
Another, and that self flowing 
And pulling as if a river until
Our colors lay piled and swollen
Before our adoring, a silken sail
Full-bellied with desiring--
A wind that moves through the self 
The self had left behind and abandoned
On the shore of no more.
Dead or dreaming, the self
Disappears, and in its place,
In the place of the self spilled out
Of itself, displaced and streaming,
(The self that had left its eye behind
Like an abandoned portal,

The self that had had an ear
And has an ear no more, bereft, as it was,
Among night voices in a dark place,

The self that had had a sex
Torn away in a shimmering wind
Until the self has a self no more)--
There is only this, this fathomless
Wildness without a where
Without a how, without a why,
Only this this,--in the place of that,
Nearby, nearly here,
In the place of the place and in place of it.

When Dark Knocks

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on When Dark Knocks
Nov 142013
Evening is here, and the house is cold
With a coldness darkened beyond what eyes behold,
A peculiar, unusual dark I neither name nor know,

A dark inside the darkness of the cold,
A dark beneath the dark of space,
A below-dark or beyond-dark or before-dark

Out of which the dark of space
Begins its becoming nothingness,
Its peculiar, unusual dark

Wherein pleasantest monstrosities adhere,
Adhere and grow gigantic--
Heavy drapes blown-in in the storm's besetting onset,

Knocking one candle dark in the swooning room,
Or swinging darkly out to outer space 
In the wind of stars,

Through which the universal edifice slowly swoons
In its own peculiar, unusual dark--as if
The shadow of a shadow thrown against

The shadow of that from which it had come.

A Celebration

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on A Celebration
Nov 142013
Only when wisp and whim
Bellies the shakily belied
Sail's starch-white brim
Do we live unburied--

Alive to time, to time's
Intemperate, inveterate ticks--
The icy sublime
Of life's penultimate lick.

So, take of this cake
With me, mon ami: birth-day
Or death-day, take; take
The risen wheat, say

A voluble salutation
For your, for my, salvation!

Abolished Blues

 [Poetry], The Giant in the Cradle  Comments Off on Abolished Blues
Nov 142013
Abolished blues
Leave as craven night
Crowds the nude

Remain cerulean,
Memories, brilliant tints,
Flashed shy-eyes'
Loitering emoluments.

Look at me, listener,
Flash tightened whites,
Blanks unstained, unstirred,
Awaiting pupils' coalblack night

To draw in raked nakedness
--Our bleak meeting.