The Pearls of Dawn
(2002, Memories of Easter Island)
Standing on the dock looking out to sea
From Easter Island, westward, one can see
The girdle of twilight—
The pearls of dawn, sliding toward Asia!
And the hider edge of night,
Crying to be born…
Time is relaxing: the gulls, and the crows,
The condors, lizards and toads, the wolves
And the scorpions, and poisonous frogs:
Turn their faces, as daylight turns dark
And brood in their trees, crevices, caves:
Tomorrow they will devour each other—
Tomorrow men will cover the island once
More! All wide-ranging
With cold carnivorous desires…
All forgetting for one long moment—now:
The bleeding, the maimed, the caged
The blindness of death,
The unborn crying to be born
(the world over, and war after war).
The quiet of the sun, resting,
Burned and soared, hidden behind the moon:
Soon to scratch out once again
With those great unreal talons: like
multiform
Crayons that have stopped the day for night;
Now will scratch out night for day:
To bring forth its hot fountain of rays,
Called dawn (it
has swung around Asia
it is on its way back again)
In its pearl-white colorful array,
All smoothed out, for the day…
Written:
9-21-2014/ No: 4555
