TO JUAN AT THE WINTER SOLSTICE
—Robert Graves, whose 111th birthday is tomorrow
There is one story and one story only
That will prove worth your telling,
Whether as learned bard or gifted child;
To it all lines or lesser gauds belong
That startle with their shining
Such common stories as they stray into.
Is it of trees you tell, their months and virtues,
Of strange beasts that beset you,
Of birds that croak at you the Triple will?
Or of the Zodiac and how slow it turns
Below the Boreal Crown,
Prison of all true kings that ever reigned?
Water to water, ark again to ark,
From woman back to woman:
So each new victim treads unfalteringly
The never altered circuit of his fate,
Bringing twelve peers as witness
Both to his starry rise and starry fall.
Or is it of the Virgin's silver beauty,
All fish below the thighs?
She in her left hand bears a leafy quince;
When with her right hand she crooks a finger, smiling,
How may the King hold back?
Royally then he barters life for love.
Or of the undying snake from chaos hatched,
Whose coils contain the ocean,
Into whose chops with naked sword he springs,
Then in black water, tangled by the reeds,
Battles three days and nights,
To be spewed up beside her scalloped shore?
Much snow is falling, winds roar hollowly,
The owl hoots from the elder,
Fear in your heart cries to the loving-cup:
Sorrow to sorrow as the sparks fly upward.
The log groans and confesses
There is one story and one story only.
Dwell on her graciousness, dwell on her smiling,
Do not forget what flowers
The great boar trampled down in ivy time.
Her brow was creamy as the long ninth wave,
Her sea-blue eyes were wild.
But nothing promised that is not performed.
_______________________
Thanks to those of you who have sent mirror poems; I'll sort through the mail today and start posting them (and sending out surprise packages) tomorrow. The rest of you have until midnight on Tuesday (7/25) to send in your own poems about mirrors and get a free poetry surprise in the mail! Send them to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or (postmarked) P.O. Box 1647, Orangevale, CA 95662.
Over the weekend I have fallen in love again with Federico Lorca ("They have brought me a snail"). Here are two from him which (coincidentally) include talk of mirrors:
HALF MOON
—Federico Garcia Lorca
The moon goes over the water.
How tranquil the sky is!
She goes scything slowly
the old shimmer from the river;
meanwhile a young frog
takes her for a little mirror.
_______________________
And how can we speak of mirrors without mentioning...
NARCISSUS
—Federico Garcia Lorca
Narcissus.
Your fragrance.
And the depth of the stream.
I would remain at your verge.
Flower of love.
Narcissus.
Over your white eyes flicker
shadows and sleeping fish.
Birds and butterflies
lacquer mine.
You so minute and I so tall.
Flower of love.
Narcissus.
How active the frogs are!
They will not leave alone
the glass which mirrors
your delirium and mine.
Narcissus.
My sorrow.
And my sorrow's self.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)