Saturday, May 23, 2009

The creation -- A mist from the earth, The whole face of the ground;

Out of deep need
Four trombones and the organ in the nave
A torch surged --
Timed the theme Bach's name,
Dark, larch and ridge, night:
From my body to other bodies
Angel and bastards interchangeably
Who had better sing and tell stories
Before all will be abstracted.
So goes: first, shape
The creation --
A mist from the earth,
The whole face of the ground;
Then rhythm --
And breathed breath of life;
Then style --
That from the eye its function takes --
"Taste" we say - a living soul.

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