Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Kynik Aktaion (Fragment from Memoir)

"What is living will only overcome the tumult of annihilation
in the ecstasy of creation."

Einbahnstrasse, Walter Benjamin, 1928.

My favorite hunting experience occurred as I was walking home
with my brother after scoring a few bucks. Our men cordially
carried the quarry. We ambled home along railroad tracks and
sparrows were twittering in the brush. Having more rounds gave
us a delightful notion. Why not annihilate those precious little 
birds with buckshot?

This experience lifted twin spirits upwards to the Olympian.
We became the Dioscuri. Dancing midst a cloud of feathers the 
spell of powder and shell disintegrated. The bowl of fate was in
our hands! Our bolts flew smiting songbirds to motes!

I thought of poetry and its flights. Annihilating song in tiny birds placed 
us past Poetry. From the Dioscuri to Apollo is but a step.

We shot death-dealing bolts. We were Gods. Are not our eyes
blue as steel, locks gold as Helios?

1 comment:

Beysshoes said...

A sweet lilt of a poem. A little snag you didn't need: "where columns speak proudly..."

Without it, its tenderness is touching. Sarai