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POEM: The Language of Stars




Th
by Wayne Martin Mellinger on Friday, June 8, 2012 at 1:20pm ·




I look at a constellation of stars,
a discrete thing that keeps its mystery,
like a slice of tangerine, or a lightening bug or a shoe stuck in the mud.
The whole world is potentially condensed into such items.
What would the language of a star be like?
Irrational rumbers silently float around a bird's nest, 
so restrained, like some Japanese haiku luring me into a joy beyond reason,
for I know that I am seeing beyond the existence.
I am still and I listen.
A presence comes from sky to ground.
Wind in face.
I want to leave this body for a moment.
But I stay.  I relax. 
I drink water from the cup. Taste salt upon my lips.
As I lift my hands to the sky and turn around you ask me why, why must you leave?


I notice my hands are now feathers and I take off to the sky?

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