Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled,
made nothing?
Are you willing to be made nothing?
dipped into oblivion?
If not, you will never really change.
The phoenix renews her youth
only when she is burnt, burnt alive, burnt down
to hot and flocculent ash.
Then the small stirring of a new small bub in the nest
with strands of down like floating ash
shows that she is renewing her youth like the eagle,
immortal bird.
- Phoenix, D.H. Lawrence
Oh, henny penny, if only.
In the elliptical arc of the hours’ orbit,
the morning’s yolky sun throws shadows;
this year the winter white sky never fell instead it entered, blankly ominous
the word I could not recall, “complacent”, came to me
in an empty moment my mind wasn’t fiddling with or trying to fill and
it sat there as good as its word
and stared at me emptily, and I, extinguished, sit by
because the ashpit of the old self has embers - hot and flocculent -
and I am waxy cold and featherless.
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Comments
Unfortunately, I wrote about it complacently rather than powerfully, as you did. Damn. "the morning's yolky sun"; "it sat there as good as its word / and stared at me emptily"; "I am waxy cold and featherless."
Damn fine.
Also :
this year the winter white sky never fell instead it entered,
& yolky sun, too.
in my comment when i said "some of yours," i meant your(-s) feathers, not your(s) bird spit. just in case that wasn't clear. as mud. but i have to say when i came back and read the comment again, i laughed so hard i fell off my chair. xo
I've only just read these words and want to wait a while ... and then return ... but even in this first reading ... in these first moments ... thank you ...
femme ~ Though I recognized you meant the feathers and not the spit, your later comment made me wonder if perhaps my spit is the thing holding me together. I'm so pleased you returned - and even more pleased that you laughed until you fell.
tg within ~ Well, hung.
AtHomePilgrim ~ Must have been in the air, the sense of it. You are both sympatico and most kindly generous.
Scarlett ~ The Lawrence poem came to mind and then my mind got busy jiggering my mood into a conflation of myth.
Bellwether ~ You mustn't allow me to feel complacent about being complacent. If I whine about being complacent it feels like I'm doing something about it.
Kim ~ You see, this all started with me thinking about the word flocculent (wooly thinking, isn't it?) which reminded me of the Lawrence poem (where I first learned the word flocculent) which led to the rest of it. I'm happy you liked the sky line.
hyblaen-Julie ~ love you for loving it and returning
anna1liese ~ And thank you. Those ellipses you employ seem to be hieroglyphs for so much, maybe time and space and understanding in this case.