Letter Seven – The Essence into Which We   F  A  L  L

(After Rilke)

 

Somewhere    on the beach   in a dream

lions sleep.        You

roam until morning

knowing

nothing of the ladder in front

of you just the sluggishness caused by

weakness for Ben & Jerry’s coffee ice cream

in large servings.

The view of paradise is always an enclosed space    the

hour where the clock stops    land

of endless 3:15’s      w/ no August appointments    & angels who show

their tongues to you in dreams revealing their

majesty            or the need for rain.

 

But train horns force reality

we

cannot live in Slaughter forever    can’t

focus on skin when the ripe plum moon

on a cool August night reveals her bosom    can’t long for

a taste of ourselves in the eternity into which we merge.    You

single out your weaknesses   (pork sausage or bad relationships)    then

object to August lost dreams    but not sunset ocean dog walks

w/o a leash    w/ flimsy clouds turning orange   apricot   pink   purple  not

worrying

about their impermanence   or

another tarot card tempting you to do the same.

 

Conflict is a collar grabbed in anger    - or a poet’s silent glare –

is a gravity inevitable pulling

our oars toward the giant falls of acceptance    the

essence into which we  f  a  l   l.

 

3:47AM - 8.07.03

Starter phrases taken from Duino Elegies

by R.M. Rilke (Fourth Elegy page 27)