Sunday, November 6, 2011

Out of the Body, Wrists

Infanta Marina
by W.S.

Her terrace was the sand
And the palms and the twilight.

She made of the motions of her wrist
The grandiose gestures
Of her thought.

The rumpling of the plumes
Of this creature of the evening
Came to be sleights of sails
Over the sea.

And thus she roamed
In the roamings of her fan,
Partaking of the sea,
And of the evening,
As they flowed around
And uttered their subsiding sound.


"Jesus said, 'Become passers-by.'"
                           - The Gospel of Thomas, Verse 42 


Hope Valley Hill by _type


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