poetryrepairs #203 14.08:086
PETER KROK : Demon and the Poet
PETER KROK : Demon and the Poet parts 3 and 4
RUTH DAIGON : Stained Glass Cantata
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Demon and the Poet
(Three Voices in Four Parts)

He is haunted by a demon, a demon against which he feels powerless, because in its first manifestation it has not face, no name, nothing; and the words the poems he makes are a kind of . . . exorcism of this demon..             T. S. Eliot  The Three Demons
  i   Bits of life are smeared on the walls of their pages. But nothing appeases. They are haunted by a demon, lured by voices of desire, whispers in the night, sounds, shadows, echoes demanding more and more and more, bending nerves a snap nearer.                     ii   Sappho, hearing the cries echoing from the rocks, flung her life into the tide. Poe lost his way chasing the black bird whistling in the dark. Crane plunged  his final obsession into the Gulf. Thomas tolled until his voice cracked. Sylvia sprawled in the darkness leaving others to ponder the rage. Hearing voices on the road, Jarrell slipped and couldn't make it to the other side.. Sexton roamed the moonlight until the wind left her breath. Berryman cast his tongue into the river leaving only the sound of his shadow.  

poetryrepairs #203 14.08:086

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
The Art of Reading

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Demon and the Poet, parts 3 and 4
                         iii   There is a tide where once seized by the current, there is no anchor ¯  only the rushing down, down, down the raging torrent until finally you drop.   They were at that current which drags down to the depths.                             iv   I am the ravisher of the rose, the termite of the night that gnaws into the fragile sap of the poet's skull, the Demon of More that grins at the silver madness in the poet's eyes. I am the poet's possessed ear beckoning from the cliffs of Lesbos to the Mexikan Gulf from the flats of London to the Lorelei where heads crack against the rocks and spray their echoes across the Rhine.               note:

'Demon and the Poet' was previously published at LIPS (FALL 2006 )
poetryrepairs #203 14.08:086

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RUTH DAIGON Stained Glass Cantata
To sing like birds in passionate anonymity all swoop and soar in morning's stunned beginnings to sing in the shell of time and wait for echoes from the deep the smell of salt and gulls calling the always mystery of fogs to sing our numbered hours and spin the inner moons of earth with rarity of simple things like snow and windows frosted white to sing an octave above the past against a loud silence, the extravagance of loss when all was garden, grace and eden where nothing when it happened was enough to sing faithful to the flesh the heart's percussion the naked sprawl of days and celebrate that we have come this far 2 When I was a nightingale, I sang When I was a serpent, I swallowed my voice, spume blown from a wave a sound too thin for earthworms In my body of skin, of moss, of clover I touch fingers with fingers lips with lips the exposed tip of the heart With memories older than Prometheus I remember the time when time was birthed the sky appeared sudden light the wind and water where blind valves closed on a single grain of sand. Seed work sun work earth work If pansies are for thoughts pick them early in the morning so they last With a pocketful of seeds, I sit peeling an orange under a static sun attentive to the sound of pine cones clicking open and gravity's a long way down

from poetryrepairs archives
poetryrepairs #203 14.08:086

Poetry endangers the established order
of the soul - Plato

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition. -- O.E.D.


PETER KROK : Demon and the Poet
PETER KROK : Demon and the Poet parts 3 and 4
RUTH DAIGON : Stained Glass Cantata

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