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
Hurry
1 week ago
Your words have the ability to create a slice in time - sometimes real time and sometimes some other time - but reality nevertheless.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed being with you back then for a moment. Thanks for the little trip.
ReplyDeleteKaren, hello.
ReplyDeleteAnthony, there was something about that place.
Dope weight? Hell, I don't even remember what mine is. Too far gone...
ReplyDeleteFunny that you would catch that...
ReplyDeletemy mountain had some snow, i assume yours had not. still i smile, thinking we climbed the same mountain yesterday.
ReplyDeleteand my mountain has not changed much the last 2300 years, i might have to go back way farther, lucky you.
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 :)
ReplyDeleteNo snakes? I thought immediately of snakes...
ReplyDeleteSnapshot
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!
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.
ReplyDeleteSpider 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.
Haha! I love it. The spider's siren song.
ReplyDeleteSiren’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.
LMAO!!
ReplyDeleteUpside 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.
Teehee! Let's keep it going a bit longer. :)
ReplyDeleteAs 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.
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.
ReplyDeleteChasing 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.
Haha! Thank you for the smile, Christopher. :) Yes, I should be more respectful of the goats. Not foolish at all, no sir. :)
ReplyDeleteThis 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.
This Is What We Know
ReplyDeleteWe 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.
Haha! :)Ok, you've got me there, Christopher. Goat scat!
ReplyDeleteDark mounds of goat scat.
ReplyDeleteJazz singers sing scat.
Do jazz singers sing goat scat?
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...
ReplyDeleteRonald, 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.
ReplyDeleteRachel 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.