I have scarcely touched the sky and I am made of it.
~Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin
Ah, Abilene,
I supplicate fast fevered
transfixed in transept,
raptured in robe;
my eyes upon your grace.
I wish to say;
come away—come at length;
let me light your cigarette
as a nod to our mortality
knelt here in fervent prayer,
but my whisper is lost
in the length of nave,
bounced in aislas
until nubbed to silence
to huddle against warm candles
beneath a Madonna’s gaze.
knees locked in knowledge;
nails puncture the palms,
thorns tear the skin,
with each breath chanted crystal
against the dying on this cross.
from the loft, you observe
this soft manufacture of mass,
calculated introit, collection and gospel,
the brooding rood
in sanctum sanctorum
a view of miraculous monstrance—
an unction for the urceole;
with ready hands to wash reason
to a polish of pax
in an arched ring of the sacring bell:
sighed
sanctus sanctus sanctus
holy holy holy
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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My goodness. (Sorry I started my last comment to you like that)
You had me at Ah, Abilene
but seriously the next 5 stanzas are very very good. The let me light your cigarette ... yikes.
I do get a bit overdone feeling once I get here:
the brooding rood
in sanctum sanctorum
a view of miraculous monstrance—
an unction for the urceole;
however .. I'll probably get over it.
and ending on holy, holy, holy had the opening stanza ringing church organ in my now reformed ears.
As the Word came in every Sunday we sang, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty ...
Glad to find you Dills. I'm Cville.
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I admit to a slight 'overdoneness' in this, but I often get carried away in imagery and adoration of sound. Someone should slap me now and then.
Thank you very much for your commentary.
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duplicate post. Thank YOU AP.
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