Thursday, 29 November 2012

Poem. Today's selection.

Let me tell you about my marvelous god, how he hides in the hexagons
of the bees, how the drought that wrings its leather hands
above the world is of his making, as well as the rain in the quiet minutes
that leave only thoughts of rain.
An atom is working and working, an atom is working in deepest
night, then bursting like the farthest star; it is far
smaller than a pinprick, far smaller than a zero and it has no
will, no will toward us.
This is why the heart has paced and paced,
will pace and pace across the field where yarrow
was and now is dust. A leaf catches
in a bone. The burrow’s shut by a tumbled clod
and the roots, upturned, are hot to the touch.
How my god is a feathered and whirling thing; you will singe your arm
when you pluck him from the air,
when you pluck him from that sky
where grieving swirls, and you will burn again
throwing him back.

Susan Stewart:- "Let me tell you about my marvelous god"

via Three Quarks Daily, where Jim Culleny posts a regular thursday poem.
Three Quarks makes interesting reading.


  1. So very descriptive. I'd love to sit with my eyes closed listening to a narration of it.


  2. That made me an atheist to her god.

  3. I thought I had seen that image before ......

    As for gods, no comment.


  4. I like the imagery.
    As for atheism, well, her god is your god if there is only one god.
    I'm not convinced the number goes as high as one.

    The image? Yes, french bees dining on m&m candies, and bringing the colour home.
    I liked the line 'how he hides in the hexagons of the bees', and wanted a bee-hexagon image.
    I like her lines.

  5. When I was in fifth grade I got a handwritten valentine from a little red-headed girl (no connection intended) that ended with "I Love You." Her name was Susan Stewart and I haven't thought of her in years until now. Thanks a lot. So this is how she ended up - writing unfathomable poetry. Probably an old maid, spoiled for life, having flown too close to the flame in her innocent youth.

    I think she was the same girl who beat me up in fourth grade.


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