Monday, March 8, 2010

Approaching The Holy

On the way back from East Pakistan in 1969 we traveled west. First we hit Karachi, then Beirut, then Istanbul, then Athens. We stayed three days in Athens and on one of them we went out to a Greek Island but I don’t remember which one. On a small day trip we went a little ways out of Athens to Delphi. I asked a question but I didn’t get an answer.

In those days I weighed 155, my dope weight. That didn’t change until I hooked with Annie and she started cooking for us in 1972. Annie was a good cook and she believed in it too.

I wrote a poem way back then, trying to do justice to some of what I felt climbing up that slope. I recall the broken shaped columns on the grassy slope. It was quite steep and there wasn’t much to see at the top, just a little indent in the ground. I think big changes took place since Delphi was a going concern. I wish now and know I wished then on that summer day in 1969 that I could have rolled back the time 2300 years or so.


Approaching The Holy

At Delphi, climbing
from the road, north and then east
up the slope devoid
of all but grass, all
but weary gray toppled stone
and me so thin then,
looking for the next
thing to do in the late sun,
searching for the truth.

April 18, 2009 4:58 PM

19 comments:

  1. Your words have the ability to create a slice in time - sometimes real time and sometimes some other time - but reality nevertheless.

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  2. Enjoyed being with you back then for a moment. Thanks for the little trip.

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  3. Karen, hello.

    Anthony, there was something about that place.

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  4. Dope weight? Hell, I don't even remember what mine is. Too far gone...

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  5. Funny that you would catch that...

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  6. my mountain had some snow, i assume yours had not. still i smile, thinking we climbed the same mountain yesterday.
    and my mountain has not changed much the last 2300 years, i might have to go back way farther, lucky you.

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  7. I like thinking we climbed the same height. However the hillside to the Delphi grotto, which is not much anymore, is in Greece and that was 1969. I have not climbed much in recent days. Climbing out of bed is enough :)

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  8. No snakes? I thought immediately of snakes...

    Snapshot

    Adventurous tourist
    I headed into the tall grass-
    bare ankles shrouded
    in the full rayon skirt
    local decorum required,
    camera ready
    to capture an image
    of the largest bloody spider
    I’d ever seen-
    when a man called out,

    HEY, watch for snakes!

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  9. I love this! However, the grass was like it was mowed. Maybe it was, or goats or something but the slope was so steep, I don't know how they mowed it.

    Spider Talk

    So the spider says
    come to me baby, never
    mind the tall sawgrass,
    the holes between us,
    the snakes. Don't think of the snakes.
    Don't think of the fangs
    glistening, dripping
    venom, as they lie in wait
    for you. Come to me.

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  10. Haha! I love it. The spider's siren song.

    Siren’s song

    I’m so stuck here now.
    Dreaming of kissing
    your beloved face in
    a fishbowl room
    while all your raucous friends
    look in from the summer yard
    and jeer,
    Who’ve you got there now, man?

    Anyway, where did my shirt go?
    I feel so exposed. If only
    I hadn’t listened
    to your confusing siren’s song.

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  11. LMAO!!

    Upside Down

    You released your scent
    and everything changed up.
    I was the hunter,
    but you no longer
    were the prey, so hot the day
    became between us.
    I am upside down,
    heart surely broken and now
    I must not let you
    know you have spiked me,
    taken my soul from my grasp,
    laid my plans to waste.

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  12. Teehee! Let's keep it going a bit longer. :)

    As you hunted me

    There would be snakes, but for the goats
    who have eaten the grass, trudging
    all dreaded-wool and ankle-bone
    over the smooth, soft hill until
    each blade is gnawed to the ground.

    There would be snakes, if they had
    anywhere left to hide, snakes to shelter me
    from your pursuit, slivered arrows
    pointed sharp at your heels, but instead
    there is nobody here
    but the silly, useless goats.

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  13. Silly, useless goats. I hope they don't hear you say that. They understand you know. They are special half divine goats. They like to nip at foolish humans.

    Chasing The Goddess

    There are finer points
    in this pursuit. I am mad
    for you but don't show
    it for fear of snakes
    issuing forth from your heart,
    but I modestly
    will say now this is
    my hill, these are my goats
    and my oracle.
    You are on my turf.

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  14. Haha! Thank you for the smile, Christopher. :) Yes, I should be more respectful of the goats. Not foolish at all, no sir. :)

    This place of goats

    Only a madman would slaughter the goats,
    see the wild look in their eyes
    and yet still draw knife across hide.
    We all know, in this village,
    that the feral goats and slick-tongued snakes
    are each but fractured visions
    of Goddess, each black and red and white
    bleating-scaled-slithering-nibbling beast
    a fragment of divinity, that one celestial mind
    which holds up this age-old hill.

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  15. This Is What We Know

    We are all just shards
    and fractured snaky visions
    eeling through sawgrass
    searching for the heel
    of the goddess and trying
    to avoid smelly
    goats and the dark mounds
    of goat scat scattered about
    this sacred hillside.

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  16. Haha! :)Ok, you've got me there, Christopher. Goat scat!

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  17. Dark mounds of goat scat.

    Jazz singers sing scat.

    Do jazz singers sing goat scat?

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  18. I like your work...I'm happy to know you through your work...thanks for sharing...I like your synergy in working your poems off each other...Great stuff...

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  19. Ronald, thank you for visiting. Yes. Me too. I have a tendency to spin off the offerings of others as they spark me, kind of like a jazz artist who replies to another musician in a jam. I am told there really are poetry jams so I guess I am not alone. I keep my form very simple for this reason of impromptu work.

    Rachel and I have built a rapport over a year or so and we often do this sort of thing. This is the first time it extended so long. I have no idea why we fit so well together but we do.

    Thanks for stopping by. Come often.

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.


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