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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Coming Out Of A Blue Funk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Coming out of a blue funk, this seal, <br>under a sky thickening like sheet ice all day <br>has found an airhole it can breathe through for awhile.<br>Been wondering about my life. What <br>it's been doing to me for the last fifty years <br>for the sake of poetry, for the sake <br>of pursuing an earthly excellence <br>though it hardly matters why anymore. <br>I used to have an answer on the tip of my tongue <br>when I was young and thought more <br>with my mouth than my heart. Less so now. <br>Time, death, suffering, love and the devil, <br>certain intense realms of creative bliss <br>attuned to the dark harmonies of hidden roots <br>that flow back like the delta of a river <br>to the watershed of a single dropp of water<br>that got it in its head to do something big with its life <br>and turn something trivial into the sublime.<br>Did not the sun and the moon, the whole of the sky, <br>fit it like skin? And that was just the outside. <br>It would take more than light years to measure <br>the wingspan of the abysmal spaces within.<br>Even time would run out of itself<br>before it got to the end of anything.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My life in art has been like keeping a fire alight outside<br>in a rainstorm of tears. To see clearly <br>through windows that thawed in the heat <br>of looking through them with the compassionate ferocity<br>of a crystal skull poured out of a terraforming meteor impact<br>like a prophetic lump of coal, a diamond in the rough, <br>that refused to burn in the furnace to prove it had the right stuff <br>to shine like a star, no one could follow, on its way to somewhere else. <br>Not a sign post. Just a sign. Your eyes <br>once you see it, are never going to be the same again. <br>You won't look at a starcluster like the Pleiades <br>as if you were waiting for the traffic lights to change. <br>You'll take your three and a half pounds of brainy starmud, <br>like a meteoritic kissing stone, a falling star, <br>and run it through a diamond tipped bandsaw<br>and discover the jewel of life that's been glowing <br>in the core of the ore since time immemorial<br>like a dna molecule wasted on space <br>that transforms the medium and the messenger <br>into a voice, free of content, that's the whole of the message. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I walked out to this dark, deserted place, redolent <br>with the duff and detritus of life, the flotsam and jetsam, <br>where the half life of the rate of decay of my insights <br>into your heart, eludes being used as an atomic clock<br>to determine the agelessness of either of us. <br>I came out to look at the stars but I've been startled <br>by the photonic discharges of your bioluminescent fireflies <br>ever since I started looking up like a starmap to make sure things <br>were where they were supposed to be. One moment <br>you get in my eyes like the sandstorm of a mandalic power painting, <br>a masterpiece of the wind, and the next, <br>I can feel the intransigence of your vulnerability <br>dyeing your hair like a comet to attract the attention <br>of the sun at midnight looking for asylum from a black hole <br>where it's third eye used to be. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">You're a mermaid on the rocks of Andromeda singing to a telescope <br>to look up to see how far its got to sink in an ocean of stars<br>before it hits bottom like a shipwrecked moonrise <br>gone pearl diving for habitable planets <br>that can say I love you and mean it like an atmosphere <br>it's not going to lose again. Only in the Braille <br>of the scars on your heart so far, but I can read your pain <br>like the glyphs of an Aztec temple <br>I'm still clearing from the jungle of my indirections, <br>that recorded in imported stone how many times <br>it's been torn out to please the gods with a kidnapped sacrifice <br>worthy of the priestcraft in the sacred abattoirs <br>of modern drug cartels when you're too susceptible <br>to feeling too much, the same as me, when I'm thinking mythically<br>about what I've endured to be acceptable in my own eyes<br>that might shine across these aloof distances like a star into yours<br>that lights you up from the inside like an intimate familiar<br>whispering into your ear like a dream grammar of sacred syllables <br>that have liberated themselves from the syntax of the stars <br>just to speak subliminally in the same sign language as you <br>like the chaos of fireflies I see in the black mirror of my mindstream <br>bending space like the surface of a lake at night <br>where you can hear the echo of a loon ululating <br>like the wavelength of a mysterious love song<br>among these dark hills shapeshifting in the moonlight<br>toward you like a mirage of picture-music <br>emerging as something real in this wilderness of transformation <br>like a new constellation of fireflies I want to overhear with your heart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a></strong></div>