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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535531" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Alchemical Passes for Father and Son - Turning Thighs to Diamonds - In Three Passes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">FIRST PASS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or what man is there among you, of whom if his son<br>shall ask bread, will he reach him a stone? - Matthew 7: 9</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No blame shall stain us now, father.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The heavy ball you hit to me is never caught, <br>a floppy glove always falls from a hesitant hand.<br>Mars in you still storms the makeshift diamond.<br>Each base of cardboard weighted with stone<br>is still our house; a bat, a ball, a mitt, <br>hard rules of the game mean to undo all<br>lust for dark heaven shunning shining girls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was reaching for god then - not your fault - a lavender<br>boy early befriended by crows, already resigned to what<br>was given and what was to come, a softball between the<br>eyes, your attempt to guide me toward those diamond<br>thighs which, you often repeated, were everywhere waiting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I blink still before you, head down, focused on 'Lion's Teeth.' **<br>I am your hard mystery, and soft, not so fast for I am fat<br>and cannot round the bases quick. I am your inherited meek, <br>a burden to shake into a sliding man furious for home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At four I pluck a wild strawberry you point to, <br>all authority and accidental grace, revealing much, <br>still dew wet, sticky to the touch, opening sourness<br>deserving my frown. You laugh at my dawning smile<br>for its sweetness slowly yielding, a surprise gift <br>for what will always unite us, your fear that I will <br>suffer, too, your fate, untended desire gone to wildness<br>brought low beneath branches, slow embrace of<br>cradle-gentle boughs entangling legs and light<br>between the greater shadows, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and shadows shall win the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In them my yearning grows yet, <br>remains for that of edges, <br>what is beyond them or beneath, <br>planets arcing and comets rare, <br>trailing lovers to come but meteors, <br>not the appointed stars of permanence <br>allowed to some men's hands, <br>and never to the fallen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still, these essential things are caught<br>for all our mostly wasted days of practice, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">wild sweetness is a stolen base, <br>the tongue is an untended garden.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a burning soft hands can know<br>which shall finally run some headlong<br>for home at the end, an inherited circle, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">a latter-day glad son gathering berries from shadows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">**Dandelion</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SECOND PASS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or what man is there among you, of whom if his son<br>shall ask bread, will he reach him a stone? - Matthew 7: 9</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No blame shall stain us now, father.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The heavy ball you hit to me is never caught.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A floppy glove always falls from a hesitant hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mars in you still storms the makeshift diamond.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each base of cardboard weighted with stone is still our house.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A bat, a ball and mitt, hard rules of the game</div><div style="margin:10px 0">undo all lust for dark heaven which shuns shining girls. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A lavender boy early<br>befriended by crows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A softball between<br>the eyes guides.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diamond thighs<br>everywhere waiting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before you, head down, <br>focused on 'Lion's Teeth'**, <br>I am a hard mystery, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and soft, not so fast for I<br>am fat and cannot round<br>the bases quick.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I, your inherited meek, <br>am a burden to shake, <br>a sliding man<br>furious for home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>*****</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I pluck wild strawberries, <br>You, all authority and<br>accidental grace, reveal too much, <br>dew wet, still sticky to the touch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Opening sourness deserves a frown.<br>Sweetness slowly yields<br>surprise for what always<br>unites father/son -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">untended desire<br>gone to wildness<br>brought low<br>beneath branches, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">slow embrace of<br>cradle-gentle boughs<br>entangling legs and<br>light between the<br>greater shadows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And shadows shall win the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>******</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Planets arc<br>and comets rare<br>trail lovers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Meteors are<br>not appointed<br>permanent stars<br>allowed to some<br>men's hands, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and never to the fallen</div><div style="margin:10px 0">caught for mostly<br>wasted days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>*******</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That wild sweetness is a stolen base.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the tongue is an untended garden.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That there is a burning soft hands can know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>********</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Finally runs something headlong</div><div style="margin:10px 0">sliding for home</div><div style="margin:10px 0">inheriting circles latter-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Glad sons (are) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">berries from</div><div style="margin:10px 0">shadows gathered.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">**Dandelion </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>THIRD PASS</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Wild strawberries, <br>all authority and<br>accidental grace, <br>reveal too much, <br>dew wet, still <br>sticky to the touch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Opening sourness<br>deserves a frown.<br>Sweetness slowly<br>yields surprise for<br>what always unites -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">untended desire<br>gone to wildness<br>brought low<br>beneath branches, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">slow embrace of<br>cradle boughs, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">entangled legs<br>and light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And shadows shall win the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That wild sweetness is a stolen base.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the tongue is an untended garden.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That there is a burning soft hands can know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Warren+Falcon">Warren Falcon</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=535531" data-title="Alchemical Passes for Father and Son - Turning Thighs to Diamonds - In Three Passes de Warren Falcon" data-description="FIRST PASS

Or what man is there among you, of whom if his son
shall ask bread, will he reach him a stone? - Matthew 7: 9

No blame shall stain us now, father.

The heavy ball you hit to me is never caught, 
a floppy glove always falls from a hesi..."></div>
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