when sunlight like honey is...
this is the afternoon and so it is time to make a
poem of the afternoon, to come up from under it
with a long sigh and to swing into it from above: the
afternoon, the golden time: to have no subject but
the world, life and the world, life in the world, the
texture of life the texture of every minute as it
passes
this is the afternoon and so it is time to make a
poem of the afternoon (the afternoon is making a
poem of itself)
afternoon, the afternoon, the people stand on the
sunlit quay and wait for the kanaris.
they stand on the quay and wait for the boat: the
canaris to arrive...
a long afternoon: an afternoon in the sun
the people stand in a kind of hushed silence;
waiting for the boat to appear on the (blue) horizon
an afternoon of hushed sunlight
a time of afternoon: the people stand in classical
poses waiting for the traditional return of the boat
to the island
and wait for the boat to appear on the blue horizon
a golden afternoon: when sunlight like honey is
poured on the land
they stand in hushed silence and nobody speaks
they are all there, all there, everyone from the town
is there
they stand on the quay in a hush of waiting and look
toward the (blue) horizon
this is the afternoon, a time to make a poem (of the
afternoon)
the afternoon is making a poem of itself
sunlight pours on the land like honey
(the sunlight lies on the land like a tender regard)
this is the afternoon (a time for its music)
sun, the sunlight is the (music) the music the music
(the music) the music (the music) the music the
music
of (this time) of the a(fter-noon)
the sunlight pours itself on the land and lies on the
land like a tender regard
they stand about and wait for the boat,
they wait for the boat, the canaris, to come in
robert lax, march 20, 1964, from stereo headphones # 8-8-10, 1982
poem of the afternoon, to come up from under it
with a long sigh and to swing into it from above: the
afternoon, the golden time: to have no subject but
the world, life and the world, life in the world, the
texture of life the texture of every minute as it
passes
this is the afternoon and so it is time to make a
poem of the afternoon (the afternoon is making a
poem of itself)
afternoon, the afternoon, the people stand on the
sunlit quay and wait for the kanaris.
they stand on the quay and wait for the boat: the
canaris to arrive...
a long afternoon: an afternoon in the sun
the people stand in a kind of hushed silence;
waiting for the boat to appear on the (blue) horizon
an afternoon of hushed sunlight
a time of afternoon: the people stand in classical
poses waiting for the traditional return of the boat
to the island
and wait for the boat to appear on the blue horizon
a golden afternoon: when sunlight like honey is
poured on the land
they stand in hushed silence and nobody speaks
they are all there, all there, everyone from the town
is there
they stand on the quay in a hush of waiting and look
toward the (blue) horizon
this is the afternoon, a time to make a poem (of the
afternoon)
the afternoon is making a poem of itself
sunlight pours on the land like honey
(the sunlight lies on the land like a tender regard)
this is the afternoon (a time for its music)
sun, the sunlight is the (music) the music the music
(the music) the music (the music) the music the
music
of (this time) of the a(fter-noon)
the sunlight pours itself on the land and lies on the
land like a tender regard
they stand about and wait for the boat,
they wait for the boat, the canaris, to come in
robert lax, march 20, 1964, from stereo headphones # 8-8-10, 1982
Labels: canaris, kanaris, robert lax, sunlight like honey, this is the afternoon
2 Comments:
Out beyond ideas of
right doing and wrong doing,
there is a field.
I'll meet you there
Incantation, Infusion
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