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We cannot see either world any more
All right. Since I am awake, I consider it still International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day, which otherwise I will completely have missed. The good news is, I just finished a poem.
Phersu
They teased us when we married,
the stonecutter and the daughter of auguries—
Charun and Vanth. The hammer I swung
into skulls of tufa and travertine,
her huntress' step, suddenly turning
as if she beckoned back a soul to Phersipnai,
we wore the names lightly, the lines of our days
already in the hand of other gods.
The laws of Tarchies, swan-winged Turan,
Thesan cradling slain Memnun in her arms
was not more piercing than her eyes
like laurel leaves, the plaited coronal of her hair
black as bucchero in the reflected sun.
No cast of Tinia's, no liver or levinbolt
could split us. We held to one another
like pole-star and ploughman, mundus and map—
the crossing of our shadows. The years
nailed home. In the tomb where she rests
among garlands and funeral games,
panthers guard her, twin lionesses pace
a rack of red-dashed ivy, dappled like fawns,
an aulos in a boy's fixed fingers plays
melodies only the dead can hear.
As in life, she lifts a hand to me,
terra-cotta in the dark of my closed eyes,
the solid compass of the heavens overhead.
Out of reach, one of my guides is waiting.
The death I will greet gladly wears her face.
It had originally a parenthetical subtitle, "Aranth and Śatna, Velathri 483 BCE," but I am not sure what the details add past the fun I had researching personal names. Let me know if you feel strongly about it either way. Otherwise, goodnight. And enjoy!
Phersu
They teased us when we married,
the stonecutter and the daughter of auguries—
Charun and Vanth. The hammer I swung
into skulls of tufa and travertine,
her huntress' step, suddenly turning
as if she beckoned back a soul to Phersipnai,
we wore the names lightly, the lines of our days
already in the hand of other gods.
The laws of Tarchies, swan-winged Turan,
Thesan cradling slain Memnun in her arms
was not more piercing than her eyes
like laurel leaves, the plaited coronal of her hair
black as bucchero in the reflected sun.
No cast of Tinia's, no liver or levinbolt
could split us. We held to one another
like pole-star and ploughman, mundus and map—
the crossing of our shadows. The years
nailed home. In the tomb where she rests
among garlands and funeral games,
panthers guard her, twin lionesses pace
a rack of red-dashed ivy, dappled like fawns,
an aulos in a boy's fixed fingers plays
melodies only the dead can hear.
As in life, she lifts a hand to me,
terra-cotta in the dark of my closed eyes,
the solid compass of the heavens overhead.
Out of reach, one of my guides is waiting.
The death I will greet gladly wears her face.
It had originally a parenthetical subtitle, "Aranth and Śatna, Velathri 483 BCE," but I am not sure what the details add past the fun I had researching personal names. Let me know if you feel strongly about it either way. Otherwise, goodnight. And enjoy!
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and sad...
the line of our days
already in the hands of other gods....
We held to one another
like pole-star and ploughman, mundus and map---
the crossing of our shadows
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Thank you!
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I sort of like the parenthetical subtitle, myself, but I suppose it's not necessary.
I suppose I should put something up for IPSTPD, although God knows I've probably got nothing that's up to the standards.
Did you ever see Jack Gilbert's "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart"? A friend of mine put it up recently here. The Etruscan reference made me think of you.
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Thank you.
Did you ever see Jack Gilbert's "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart"?
Never. It's stunning. I clearly need to read more Jack Gilbert.
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You're welcome.
Never. It's stunning. I clearly need to read more Jack Gilbert.
Glad it pleased you. I need to read more of him as well. I think this was the first I'd heard of him.
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I'm still working on the golem piece, plus something about the Bean family. Today was way too taken up with household accounts, but I swear, tomorrow I'll write too.;)
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Thank you. Of course, I started out to write something about Vanth. This is just what I ended up with!
I'm still working on the golem piece, plus something about the Bean family.
Rock!
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*Ears perk up*
Ooh!
They don't... perchance... reprogram peoples' GPSs to have them drive off into the woods where no one can hear them... Do they?
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This, please understand, is a criticism of the subtitle, not of the poem, which I do like - I read it, I admit, as being 'about' Vanth... Also, it makes pictures in my mind (which may be all wrong, but are very pretty).
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That's fair. Aranth and Śatna are not a historically attested couple; they are two Etruscan personal names I liked. The date and the city are because of the tomb paintings I was modeling the second half of the poem after.
I read it, I admit, as being 'about' Vanth...
Good!
Also, it makes pictures in my mind (which may be all wrong, but are very pretty).
Do you draw? You could illustrate them. (I have no visual art skills beyond small cartoons . . .)
Thank you!
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And it made me do some research.
Do the dancing phersu (is that the plural?) look like satyrs to you?
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Thank you.
And it made me do some research.
Will it lead to a poem?
Do the dancing phersu (is that the plural?)
(Phersur, I think? Several reputable-looking sites tell me the nominative plural is formed by adding -r with preceding vowel where necessary. I have no idea if it's attested.)
look like satyrs to you?
Yes, with their spiky beards. But the Etruscans also depict satyrs in jewelry, bronze, and pottery; they are not the same figures. I don't know if anyone knows what they are, other than their mask. Maybe that's all we need to know.
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Your work sometimes reminds me of Cavafy's.
Truly lovely.
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You and everyone else agree. Skipped it is!
Your work sometimes reminds me of Cavafy's.
I take that as a great compliment. Thank you.
Fortunate, indeed!
among garlands and funeral games,
panthers guard her, twin lionesses pace
a rack of red-dashed ivy, dappled like fawns,
an aulos in a boy's fixed fingers plays
melodies only the dead can hear.
Red and brown and gold and black all together, purr.
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Thank you.
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like pole-star and ploughman, mundus and map—
Oh, gorgeous.
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Thank you.
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I do like
the solid compass of the heavens overhead.
Do send Mike a copy, if you have a chance. He does like to accrue that which is related to the Kuiper belt objects his group found :)
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Then I shall.
Thank you!
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Thank you!
(I like your icon.)
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