Posts Tagged ‘ Gates ’

January by Hoa Nguyen

JANUARY

            January long light
            Janus     I see you
            God of locks and doorways
 
            two-faced looking in Capricorn
            Capricorn like the snowy owl
                        irruption
 
            We fear heavy body collisions

            January     time of doors
            time looking back on itself
                        God of gates

                        spelt and salt

They say when you
            walk through a door

            you can forget what
                        you came for

–Hoa Nguyen, VIOLET ENERGY INGOTS  (Wave Books, 2016)

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An Excerpt from Jennifer Firestone’s Gates & Fields

“Fence,” Simone Kearney (2013), oil on canvas. 22 x 30 inches (image courtesy the artist)

Source: An Excerpt from Jennifer Firestone’s Gates & Fields

Bamboo and Plum Blossom: Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

Passing the Winter at Yunhua but not meeting up with my friend 
I came to this place where the trees are confusingly thick.
Suddenly in the arched vault of the forest I found a path.
I passed that stone… the one below the green pavilion.
There was frost on the leaves and the branch tips were bare and red.
Who was it who carved those emotional words in the rock?
I waited. Ah… All feelings,
Are they not just emptiness of “me”?
The Chan gates both rest quietly now
With the plum trees and the grasses
Awaiting the winds of Spring.

 

Source: Bamboo and Plum Blossom: Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

An Act of Poetry – The Cross Bones Graveyard, London/C a f é o l o g Ÿ & word pond

 

Interior of the Cross Bones Graveyard, looking towards Central London

The Prostitutes or so called “Winchester Geese” of Cross Bones Graveyard were outcasts denied consecrated ground for burial even though they were exploited for profit by the Westminster Church that exacted regular payments from them for using Church street property to sell their services. In chapter 27 of his 1857 novel Great Expectations Charles Dickens wrote,  “Throughout life, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed for the sake of the people we most despise.” The actions of those who visit at the Cross Bones of London every year since 2000 in the memory of those prostitutes, and later, paupers buried beyond its gates also reach toward those still wished to be forgotten by society — people who lack  energy to insist daily on basic positive regard for the truth of their existence on the part of the larger culture. In their act of poetry are the people who live in London signaling the need for a paradigm shift?

The YouTube video which follows, The People of the Cross Bones Graveyard, is an overview and an essay from C a f é o l o g Ÿ included here prompted me to make this posting.
~ Yours truly, df

 

The Red Gates – C a f é o l o g Ÿ

&

Crossbones Graveyard – The Living Herstory

 

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