Thursday, July 14, 2011

An Old Story

Moses Siregar, a man attempting a career.

I have no comment on the writing of Moses Siregar. I do not know it. He put a "Black God" in the title of his upcoming (first?) novel, which he claims has been and perhaps still is a free novella on Amazon.

An Old Story

You teller of myth,
inconsolable goddess,
bringer of winter -
the ice enters me
that I too would steal your love
to keep here below
I am no better
than the old black god, older
than all my sand.

December 5, 2009 7:29 AM

1 comment:

  1. An old song

    I sift your ancient sand
    and draw out a bead
    of my own making, a bead

    older than your stories,
    older than your earth’s caress

    and drop it tinkling
    into my sieve of antler and bone.

    These artefacts I gather:
    a crow’s feather, tattered and glinting
    blue in the pale spring sun;

    the weathered strands of seaweed;

    a ring of whale bone
    and a slip of rainbow shell.

    The mask I weave is sparse,
    salty and hollow as a drum,
    fit for a dance of eternities

    the sea witch and her consort,
    the sand-stripped sleek black god.


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

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