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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476528" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Coming Out Of A Blue Funk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Coming out of a blue funk, this seal, <br>under a sky thickening like sheet ice all day <br>has found an airhole it can breathe through for awhile.<br>Been wondering about my life. What <br>it's been doing to me for the last fifty years <br>for the sake of poetry, for the sake <br>of pursuing an earthly excellence <br>though it hardly matters why anymore. <br>I used to have an answer on the tip of my tongue <br>when I was young and thought more <br>with my mouth than my heart. Less so now. <br>Time, death, suffering, love and the devil, <br>certain intense realms of creative bliss <br>attuned to the dark harmonies of hidden roots <br>that flow back like the delta of a river <br>to the watershed of a single dropp of water<br>that got it in its head to do something big with its life <br>and turn something trivial into the sublime.<br>Did not the sun and the moon, the whole of the sky, <br>fit it like skin? And that was just the outside. <br>It would take more than light years to measure <br>the wingspan of the abysmal spaces within.<br>Even time would run out of itself<br>before it got to the end of anything.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My life in art has been like keeping a fire alight outside<br>in a rainstorm of tears. To see clearly <br>through windows that thawed in the heat <br>of looking through them with the compassionate ferocity<br>of a crystal skull poured out of a terraforming meteor impact<br>like a prophetic lump of coal, a diamond in the rough, <br>that refused to burn in the furnace to prove it had the right stuff <br>to shine like a star, no one could follow, on its way to somewhere else. <br>Not a sign post. Just a sign. Your eyes <br>once you see it, are never going to be the same again. <br>You won't look at a starcluster like the Pleiades <br>as if you were waiting for the traffic lights to change. <br>You'll take your three and a half pounds of brainy starmud, <br>like a meteoritic kissing stone, a falling star, <br>and run it through a diamond tipped bandsaw<br>and discover the jewel of life that's been glowing <br>in the core of the ore since time immemorial<br>like a dna molecule wasted on space <br>that transforms the medium and the messenger <br>into a voice, free of content, that's the whole of the message. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walked out to this dark, deserted place, redolent <br>with the duff and detritus of life, the flotsam and jetsam, <br>where the half life of the rate of decay of my insights <br>into your heart, eludes being used as an atomic clock<br>to determine the agelessness of either of us. <br>I came out to look at the stars but I've been startled <br>by the photonic discharges of your bioluminescent fireflies <br>ever since I started looking up like a starmap to make sure things <br>were where they were supposed to be. One moment <br>you get in my eyes like the sandstorm of a mandalic power painting, <br>a masterpiece of the wind, and the next, <br>I can feel the intransigence of your vulnerability <br>dyeing your hair like a comet to attract the attention <br>of the sun at midnight looking for asylum from a black hole <br>where it's third eye used to be. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You're a mermaid on the rocks of Andromeda singing to a telescope <br>to look up to see how far its got to sink in an ocean of stars<br>before it hits bottom like a shipwrecked moonrise <br>gone pearl diving for habitable planets <br>that can say I love you and mean it like an atmosphere <br>it's not going to lose again. Only in the Braille <br>of the scars on your heart so far, but I can read your pain <br>like the glyphs of an Aztec temple <br>I'm still clearing from the jungle of my indirections, <br>that recorded in imported stone how many times <br>it's been torn out to please the gods with a kidnapped sacrifice <br>worthy of the priestcraft in the sacred abattoirs <br>of modern drug cartels when you're too susceptible <br>to feeling too much, the same as me, when I'm thinking mythically<br>about what I've endured to be acceptable in my own eyes<br>that might shine across these aloof distances like a star into yours<br>that lights you up from the inside like an intimate familiar<br>whispering into your ear like a dream grammar of sacred syllables <br>that have liberated themselves from the syntax of the stars <br>just to speak subliminally in the same sign language as you <br>like the chaos of fireflies I see in the black mirror of my mindstream <br>bending space like the surface of a lake at night <br>where you can hear the echo of a loon ululating <br>like the wavelength of a mysterious love song<br>among these dark hills shapeshifting in the moonlight<br>toward you like a mirage of picture-music <br>emerging as something real in this wilderness of transformation <br>like a new constellation of fireflies I want to overhear with your heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476528" data-title="Coming Out Of A Blue Funk de Patrick White" data-description="Coming out of a blue funk, this seal, 
under a sky thickening like sheet ice all day 
has found an airhole it can breathe through for awhile.
Been wondering about my life. What 
it's been doing to me for the last fifty years 
for the sake of poetr..."></div>
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