Poems by John Pilkey |
Dosso Dossi. Melissa (c. 1515-16) Beneath a back yard rests a buried thought, a ragged thing too beggarly to dig, no longer sprightly, colorful or big, obscure as rough depression in a lot where someone hacks a hole and leaves to rot the carcass of a mutton or a pig. This thought too weak to whisper, lift a leg or even sigh exists somewhere near not. But I remember what its shape demands and how it urges upward reaching hands to signal in the moonlight something slow, an entity that verges on the so. Although it fails two thousand years to come, it totals, seen, the universal sum. John Davis Pilkey |
Mysterion |
