Stories and poems

"The metaphoric image of 'orphan lines' is a contrivance of the detached onlooker to whom the verbal art of continuous correspondences remains aesthetically alien. Orphan lines in poetry of pervasive parallels are a contradiction in terms, since whatever the status of a line, all its structure and functions are indissolubly interlaced with the near and distant verbal environment, and the task of linguistic analysis is to disclose the levels of this coaction. When seen from the inside of the parallelistic system, the supposed orphanhood, like any other componential status, turns into a network of multifarious compelling affinities.'
Roman JAKOBSON, "Grammatical Parallelism and its Russian Facet", Language, 42/2, 1966, pp. 399-429, p. 428-429

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Ten of Wands

I'm going with the idea of tarot card inspired poems, and since I drew this card today, I'm posting this old poem about the ten of wands.

Ten of Wands

Gathering, gathering reeds to myself.
The devil lies at best,
to transform my passion is the test,
to meet at both ends,
to catch and survive
these deep desires
that spring from long lost faults
in earth and founts of fire,
here, back to the ground, cool down.

Form, gathering reeds to myself,
make a balance between us,
your need and mine,
healing, breaking or broken, fine.
I'm working, I'm thinking,
I'm pouring my love into cups,
back out, then in,
sorting and shifting,
gathering reeds to myself.

I realize I often carry burdens that are not my own.

Putting the burden down can be trying, or at least difficult, though this seems strange. It ought to be easy to put something heavy down, but sometimes it isn't. Sometimes I want to lug this thing around, this heavy thing that isn't mine.

If I open my arms, the reeds fall, and I am empty handed again. Everything seems quite simple and I can use my hands to do the important things in my life that need doing. 

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