The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Michael Gessner In the History of Great Ideas for Rebecca SeiferleWhen I read this, from you, Imagination’s bacchanal, a flutter of blue butterflies spins upward, circles in a whirlpool, & the whirlpool spins too, in a shaft of sunlight in the morning, & the whole world is anticipation itself. When I read you, Hölderlin holds out his coat, & since he is a ghost & does not need his coat, he gives it to me to wear. There are whispers in the sleeves. Sails fill, spank-out, snap in the stiff salt wind, & from Argo’s prow, from the magical timber of the Dodona (the page is the flesh of the tree,) the whisperings are caught up & spun around at those angles necessary to leave ground. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |