Six O’Clock Vintage

Seek those images that constitute the wild, the lion and the virgin, the harlot and the child. Find in middle air an eagle on the wing, recognize the five that make the Muses sing. | W.B Yeats, Those Images

A String of Blood

My heart is racing
Around itself in a
Circle;
Far from the warm wings’ shadow.

A stone, some feathers,
Perhaps a vague memory
Of the rough-hewn arche
Will guide my heart
With a string of blood
Out of the cycle, and
Back
To the warm wings’ shadow.

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3 total comments, leave your comment or trackback.
  1. I like this. Quite a bit, really. Care to unpackage it at all?

  2. Thank you Ariel;

    And I’m quite willing to “unpackage” it, though part of the beauty of art is its mystery:

    There are three synonymous ideas here: the stone, wings, and the esoteric arche (which is Greek for “essential material” or basic stuff; the fundamental core). All of these ideas came to me from the Psalms and are all references to the Divine (”shadow of his wings,” “rock on which I stand,” and finally, the rough-hewn cross, which is the foundation of the very world).

    The first half is about my tendency towards self-deification; the frenetic self-centredness of my anxious heart.

    And there is only one thing that can lead me out of this cycle of despair…

    Circle;
    Back

  3. Excellent. Now I appreciate it all the more.