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| Supermoon at the Eiffel Tower, May 2012 |
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| River Irwell, R.D. Stainforth |
Volley
Van
Gogh wakes in the grave, leaning
into
green cemetery silence,
Listening
with the tuning fork filaments
of
his residual ear.
Insomniac
ghost, he sees everyone running,
whispering je ne sais quoi in the dark.
He
billows off, the hem of his shroud trailing
in
the elbow of the voluble Seine, looking up
To
view a luminous ball resting on the tip
of
the Eiffel Tower,
Great
sentinel moon, rebuking all of Paris.
Now
Sartre, Camus, Renoir gather at the tower;
It
takes all of them, Van Gogh
calling
the plays,
Their
white wrists extended,
to
tip the ball loose;
In
unguarded amazement,
they
watch it ascend, making its way
Like
a ship of state across the molten skies.
In St. Petersburg ,
something tugs
At
Dostoyevsky, entombed within eternal
dreams of
infinite snow and forbidden love:
He
finds himself in his dark carriage,
driver
lashing the lathered team
Through the dormant frigid city,
where
like the face of a vagrant
Revolutionary,
the great moon hovers
over the Winter Palace in the square.
He
summons the Brothers Karamazov
from
the peripheral graves;
The
volley once more and now the
opalescent immensity broken from its orbit
Travels
on west, through one time zone
then
another, over alpine ridges
To
the piazza where the Carrera Dante,
in
his mantle of forlorn pigeons,
Sees
it-- ascendant luna errante--
over
the Palazzo di Scaligeri.
All
Veronese lamplight
is
suddenly quenched in deference:
One
expat had been saying to
another, sitting at a bistro table
After
hours, But Thomas touched the stranger’s
wounds—explain that away.
And
the other person could not,
except
to say, We see what we yearn
To see; look, broken from stone
Dante himself comes unto us,
Holding a great wayfaring moon
by a filigreed strand.
Jenne' R. Andrews
May 8, 2012
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| Caravaggio: The Incredulity of St. Thomas |
Dostoyevsky's Notes for a chapter of The Brothers Karamazov
*je ne sais quoi -- fr. I don't know what...
xx
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012 All rights reserved....
13 comments:
Just terrific. Funny, intelligent (of course), thoughtful, eye/mind-opening. Very clever, and the end with the debate about Thomas and Dante so wonderful.
It reminds a bit of the Monty Python Philosphers' football match, though really it is more ambitious than that -- k.
I meant philosophers - and also kudos. K.
This is such a beautiful blog.
I love this take....and the super moon awakening......
Your writing feels like music! Your blog is exceptional, and the photo you added with Mag 116 is very stunning!
Listening with the tuning fork filaments
of his residual ear.
...and all the rest, too.
Just excellent.
=)
Intelligent write, Jen...I especially like Van Gogh listening with his residual ear...
Love the poem. Smart, full of images. Thanks!
Beautiful poem with smart language and images.
such a white-hot poem, Jenné! -
Remarkable. I listened with all the power of my residual ear...
Inspired by a supermoon? Maybe resurrecting the souls of all these great artists - something about the moon that always brings out the reflective and the romantic....
What a wonderful nugget! You've got yourself a new fan.
Doesn't the poetic spirit cry out for a night like this? The moon exalts, lifts life from ashes, and the thoughts and words fill the mouths of those who said them as they walk among us as if by magic. This is a magical piece, full of imagination and inspiration. How deftly you roll the ball. I was there.
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