5 September 2023

How still they lie.
So mysteriously still.
Do they speak to me or to something else?

Heights and plunging depths,
into vast oceans,
where ’things’ swim.

Am I to fly from one flower to the next like a bee?
Linger for a while upon each bloom,
And drink its sweet nectar?

Or am I to venture below like some uncanny mermaid
Into the depths of the unconscious,
And drink its strange fluid?

Will I find anger? Will I find peace?
Will I find Apollo? Or will I find Dionysius?
And will I see the entire history of Western civilization laid out before me?

I laughed and shook his hand
Nice to meet you, Apollo.
How blonde your locks!

You seem like Jesus to me
Yet, dark curls he had.
Why do you start to flicker and snow?