Sunday, November 21, 2010

harps of stone, strings of gut

coma before the matrix
two smooth stones are rubbed
and soon the spark
and the flame of slender sticks
the cool and slender sticks
it cannot be told
the true and original tao
coma before the matrix

harvest festival
of experience carved
before the something
before the nothing

in front of

they run
wild through the slender reeds
to cut the pipes
they return
wearing skins
to the name
before the name
the altar

coma before the matrix

1 comment:

  1. Feels like there's a horror tale of nameless villagers and archetypal rites in here somewhere.

    Thanks for the poem! Enjoyed it.



Irrony Observes The Earthing.