Fathoms

We cast our nets whose strands are made
from eldritch energies
to help ensnare the orbs of jade
with mystic imageries
derived from observations of
the vast chaotic seas
where we are tossed on swells of love
and deep extremities.


***Well it was an extremely productive weekend. At a book sale I found:
1) A paperback copy of Arthur Rimbaud's 'Illuminations'
2) A hardcover copy of Carl Sandburg's 'Honey and Salt'
3) A paperback copy of Chaucer's 'Canterbury Tales'
4) A play by Dylan Thomas
5) A collection of 20 essays (by some famous writers) for the aspiring writer
6) A copy of a Greek Mythology reference guide
7) A hardcover copy of Thomas Wolfe's 'Of Time and The River'

and it is from this last tome that I would like to share a remarkable excerpt which spoke to me in a voice I needed to hear right now, and which inspired this latest poem-

"At that instant he saw, in one blaze of light, an image of unutterable conviction, the reason why the artist works and lives and has his being--the reward he seeks--the only reward he really cares about, without which there is nothing. It is to snare the spirits of mankind in nets of magic, to make his life prevail through his creation, to wreak the vision of his life, the rude and painful substance of his own experience, into the congruence of blazing and enchanted images that are themselves the core of life, the essential pattern whence all other things proceed, the kernel of eternity."

need I say more?***