When Pussywillows Last in the Catyard Bloomed (Rtf)

Cover When Pussywillows Last in the Catyard Bloomed (Rtf)
unnamed   THE MAN WITHOUT A SHADOWWhat master were he of brush or of graver, who drew the shades and the lineaments, which there would make every subtle wit stare? —Purgatoria, Canto XII.“Machine-like, I saw AchillesChallenge the gods with the inevitable conflictOf mortal desires that even the son of a godDid not lay at the feet of those that formed him.And I saw him lieLike Balder spread,With that mortal tree drawing of his fluidsAnd shivering against the violent sky,Upgrown from his pierced m...emberUpon the darkening ground.And their open faces soundedWhile she, the distant Polyxena, sister of Cassandra,Spoke nothing, but was believedOf pity and known of fear.Unbelieving, I saw OsirisEnter the House of the DeadOn that Great Day when all the days and yearsWere numbered and, yet, saw that his nameWas given back to him,And, too, the lacerate partsWe re-formed and rose againAnd strode again.And great Isis, before those merciless membersWas undone, and unbelievingFelt the movement of his nightclaimed torseThose very handsHad seen to the rendingWhile she played the great adultressTo a brother god.Godlike, I saw the great Odysseus,Wielder of the blinding brand,Retriever of the goddess-image,And bender of that bow,Fall unknowing to the unknown slaughter Of an unknown sonOf his own limbs that lay with the darknessOf she that made men what they were In all but flesh.Beloved of her, the dark one,And also beloved of herThat may never know love,He took to race of armsWith his own, by darkness,And fell before his dark ownThat even she of the aegis could not hold.I saw the gods walk byIn vain procession longTo the distant doom of the homeOf the eater of godsThat throbbed with the constant thunderOf clashing teeth, tongue and jawsThat consumed their Burgundy and cakesWhile bearing perpetuallyTheir unwanted sons.And the gods came by in their trappings Of yellow, purple and awful red,And, asking that it might pass from them,Shuffled their feet near the endAnd thought of a thousand undone trivia That lay behind, and looked furtively asideFor open doors in the labyrinthThat might lead the way away.But when these could not be found,Strove to bear themselves like noble men.And the unwanted sons inheritedThe lands of their fathersWhen the fathers were no moreThan outlandish names and strange figuresCast in stone, mud, wood and straw,While the filmier integument of the earthYet held their horrorsConstantly stirring in green chambers.And the universe is a blue roomWhere an ever-singing woman sitsAt the heart of a lotusAnd plays upon a stringed instrument,Where all these have passed and passed again,And never turns her crimson-cowled head, Save to the subtle nuancesOf her own melody which sheCreates for an unknown lord.MoreLess

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