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blurred B
Posted on 2008.06.21 at 10:01


from: LES ANGES SONT BLANCS by George Seferis, Athens:1939

...these were things isolated even more than the poem
that you left behind when you fell heavily with its last word
without knowing anything more among the white eyeballs of the blind
and the sheets
that you unfolded feverishly to cover the procession
of people who won't bleed no matter how often they attack themselves
with hatchets and fingernails
...and you said your friends were knocking loudly with great despair and
you were with them:
"The angels are white flaming white and the eye that would confront
them withers
and there is no other way you've got to become like stone if you seek
their communion
and when you seek out the miracle you must scatter your blood to the
eight points of the winds
because the miracle is nowhere if not circulating in the veins of man."

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This is from a longer poem dedicated to Henry Miller and translated from the Greek by George Economou

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Let me take this moment to register my annoyance with some of the more pernicious features of LJ's program, or whatever it's called: if I wanted my lines to all be left-justified I would have F-ing typed it that way. Cretins!

Comments:


Carla
euterpe35 at 2009-05-19 16:43 (UTC) (Link)
Hi Bruce, this is from Carla, Heather's friend. Can you please send me your e-mail address? euterpe35 at gmail.com
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