wing
Walking on the beach, I found -- on pebbles and sand, as if thrown there casually ... but am I really so cruel, that I will make you imagine such a horror? yet, isn't beauty always cruel? -- I found a wing -- not a dead bird, no, a wing of yellow and black feathers, torn from a bird, a white length of bone dangling at one end, discarded....
But beauty is difficult? Is this beautiful?
nerve sewn to world
A review of Rachel Galvin's Pulleys & Locomotion in The Pedestal Magazine
Trains Pass, Close But Invisible
But isn’t concealment half of beauty?
The air’s tremble as it ungloves
each finger, sets strands
of web to glint. The uplift of cedars,
free of gravitas, their vault
and nave unencumbered
by the unfinished business of the soul,
its shivering coastlines.
Nearby aspens ring their yellow bells,
hungry, uncertain how to spend their days.
But this may be a failure of the eye,
vertex of nerve sewn to world.
The yellow rustle may not be bells,
but a roomful of readers
turning pages of newspaper.
--Rachel Galvin
secret
Prayer
-Galway Kinnell
guest post
Today I have a guest post at Claire Burge's blog,
Claire B.
If you go, take some time to appreciate Claire's own beautiful photographs and writing.
Thank you, Claire, for putting me in such good company!
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