November Poem
by E. Castendyk BriefsLeaves no wind could wrench from earlier trees, in this windstill now let go. Their fall is soundless vertical as a spider’s twig- to- ground descent deus ex machina. —E. Castendyk . . . . Continue Reading »
Leaves no wind could wrench from earlier trees, in this windstill now let go. Their fall is soundless vertical as a spider’s twig- to- ground descent deus ex machina. —E. Castendyk . . . . Continue Reading »
It is harder to see what one seesthan anyone knowsbecause it is easier, far far easierthan on can suppose. That still point of the turning world—look! this light through the petal—where there are no shadowsand where it is never a problem never to have shadows,neither haunted by undaunted . . . . Continue Reading »
I Merely the look of it, buttercup at the edge of the “Lawn Falls” where the water seeps, sweeps down to the seaside is enough to carry the viewer in awe over the edge of reason to a logic beyond the modest mundane: the rocks being pitted are jointed by torrents of balm-like uproar. Love’s . . . . Continue Reading »