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Showing posts from October, 2006
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By name

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You don't have to say God if you don't want.
Say higher power or Being or Spirit or Light.
I say God because it's the name I grew up with.
It's how I know I'm home
As I stand on the top of this mountain
In light that is the gold of the streets of heaven
Under a sky that is a sapphire jewel
Amid leaves that burn like rubies and topaz
With this warm apple in my hand,
With my daughter beside me
Telling me to look, look at this apple,
How big it is and so red it's purple.
I say thank you, God; thank you creator of the universe.
There isn't any other place to be
But God's country.
I say the name and know I'm home.

Colors

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Irish poet Cathal O Searcaigh reads his poem "Colors" in the Strange Attractionsgraffiti trailer. Please give this about 30 seconds to load.

Strange Attractions: a Community of Chaos

Click here for more on Strange Attractions.

Crossroads

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At the crossroads I watch a turtle
Crane her neck in three directions:
The swamp, the stream, the marsh.
Cars pass, and though there is a stop sign
Few stop; fewer notice that I
Am crossing guard
To a box turtle.
I wait. I watch. Nobody stops.
I lift the turtle and place her
Near the stream,
Sure I have done the wrong thing.
Sure, in fact, that I have interfered
With the unfolding of natural history
In this place.
I am a cataclysm in the life of this
Turtle who feels the cool
Of my shadow and will not come out.
No, indeed. She will not assure me that I done good:
I have kept her alive for a few minutes longer
Than she might have been at the end of the long century.
Good for me. I feel like a fool. What have I done?
For a few minutes at the end of a long century,
I can't help thinking,
I might have braved it and followed her across the road.

Crossroads

Image
At the crossroads I watch a turtle
Crane her neck in three directions:
The swamp, the stream, the marsh.
Cars pass, and though there is a stop sign
Few stop; fewer notice that I
Am crossing guard
To a box turtle.
I wait. I watch. Nobody stops.
I lift the turtle and place her
Near the stream,
Sure I have done the wrong thing.
Sure, in fact, that I have interfered
With the unfolding of natural history
In this place.
I am a cataclysm in the life of this
Turtle who feels the cool
Of my shadow and will not come out.
No, indeed. She will not assure me that I done good:
I have kept her alive for a few minutes longer
Than she might have been at the end of the long century.
Good for me. I feel like a fool. What have I done?
For a few minutes at the end of a long century,
I can't help thinking,
I might have braved it and followed her across the road.

Wink

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Click here to view the Strange Attraction graffiti videos (updated Sept. 23).