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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476749" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Looking At Stars From Spy Rock</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Looking at stars from Spy Rock <br>on top of Foley Mountain, <br>Westport glowing like an alloy <br>of red algae and fireflies down below<br>around the sacred pools of small mouth bass<br>raised from fingerlings <br>to lure the fishermen of Hazelton Pennsylvania <br>to this pioneer pantry of wildlife up north.<br>I can remember you naming them out loud <br>like Santa Claus’ reindeer.<br>Deneb, Vega, Al Tair. <br>And I tried hard to look <br>but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.<br>And I’m up here again by myself many years later <br>and there are two ghosts on the wind <br>casting their shadows on the Milky Way <br>two black holes in time <br>that took it all in <br>then disappeared.<br>We didn’t separate. <br>We just evaporated into thin air <br>and I can hear the flowers saying <br>in their small damaged voices <br>I’d rather die than put up with this time of year.<br>Semi-hibernating raccoons <br>and the occasional brown bear <br>looking for a last snack before sleep<br>before snow <br>before the flame of life<br>is turned down so low <br>it’s merely a candle living off <br>the lifespan of its own fat <br>just long enough to keep the dream <br>of what bears dream about alive<br>until hunger drives them out of their caves <br>twelve thousand years later <br>into a world they can no longer recognize <br>as the one that dressed up in their hides and their skulls<br>and spit-painted on their cave walls<br>and appealed to their power not to kill it outright<br>as it begged forgiveness for its trespass. <br>Bear magic on Foley Mountain.<br>Ursa Major in starlight. <br>And for awhile I thought you might be <br>my circumpolar girlfriend <br>and I could be your mystic star map.<br>You had the right ascension as me <br>but the wrong declination <br>and like everything else <br>that’s ever led me out of the wilderness <br>like the only direction left to go in <br>you rose and set over my event horizon<br>and what had been the fixed stars of my eyes and heart <br>wandered off like fireflies and chimney sparks <br>into a darkness I could only imagine <br>enhances your shining somewhere <br>like a warm breath of life and light <br>hovering in the cold night air<br>as mine is exorcised here.<br>We breathe the stars in<br>and then we breathe them out<br>and it’s been going on like this <br>for thousands of light years. <br>Three more nights <br>and the moon will catch up to Jupiter. <br>You said you couldn’t be famous <br>standing in my shadow <br>but what you didn’t realize at the time <br>I was the shadow of your shining<br>whenever you approached the earth <br>like Venus on a moonless night.<br>But how remote it all seems now. <br>Encounters of the human kind <br>reverting like the unploughed fields around here <br>to something intimately alien and wild.<br>We embodied all these stars once. <br>We stood here on this mountain once together<br>and breathed these vacant interstellar spaces in<br>as if we could hold all of space and time <br>like a single dropp of insight <br>into the circuitous blossoming <br>of our riverine hearts <br>and oceanic minds. <br>And what myth of spring fish <br>could fathom our depths <br>though it jump like Pisces into the boat? <br>Up here in my eagle-eyed eyrie<br>do these receding hills at my feet<br>remember anything as vividly as I do <br>as the sound of your voice when you spoke<br>and the mountain came down prophetically <br>like an avalanche of stone tablets <br>across the ups and downs <br>of the road that led us up here <br>to look into the empty beyond <br>as far as the light <br>we were given given to go by<br>whether it be the hundred billion stars <br>of Messier thirty-one<br>two million light-years away <br>like the sister galaxy you are to me tonight<br>just this smudge of light at eleven o’clock <br>above the middle star <br>of the constellation Andromeda<br>or a firefly in the spider mount of a parabolic mirror. <br>Sometimes you can notice things more clearly <br>that you can see head on at the time<br>out of the corner of your eye <br>as you look away from your line of sight<br>astronomical units of light later.<br>I have come back to those moments <br>from so long ago<br>like time with an expanded field of vision<br>of wildflowers dying all over the mountain<br>like cornflowers in the grave of a Neanderthal<br>incarnadined by red ochre<br>though none were ever buried here <br>we still share this common ground of death<br>or Indian tobacco at the eastern gates of theburial hut <br>of an Algonquin who once stood here as I did <br>and gazed upon the moon in wonder<br>estranged by the wound of the rapture <br>just moments before he disappeared for good <br>into the bone-box of his having been here once <br>to amaze his solitude with precipitous stars <br>looking up from the godless pulpit of Spy Rock.<br>The cedars sway in the wind <br>like children learning to swim beside a pool<br>ploughing the air with their arms.<br>And the shadows tremble <br>like the waters of life <br>inside the heartwood of a rootless tree <br>the moon ripples with forgotten springs<br>that once made the fish jump at fireflies <br>wavelengths out of reach of their eyes.<br>Sight is a kind of love.<br>As above so below <br>like the palindrome of the moon goddess Anna<br>in the Arabic jana<br>the English heaven <br>and the Greek ouranos <br>Romanized into Uranus analeptically. <br>O what a brutal exchange. <br>All that life and light and love <br>all those stars <br>all that seeing <br>just to exhume a few dead metaphors <br>and breathe a little life into them <br>as if you were giving <br>mouth to mouth <br>heart to heart <br>spirit to spirit <br>resuscitation to words<br>that once saw their whole life flash before them <br>before they drowned <br>up to their necks and out of their depths in stars.</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=476749" data-title="Looking At Stars From Spy Rock de Patrick White" data-description="Looking at stars from Spy Rock 
on top of Foley Mountain, 
Westport glowing like an alloy 
of red algae and fireflies down below
around the sacred pools of small mouth bass
raised from fingerlings 
to lure the fishermen of Hazelton Pennsylvania 
t..."></div>
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