When God says, I could give you
the whole world, but would you take it?
he’s expecting No, since I am the alleged
immigrant at the feast, but I say Yes.
Go ahead, give me the world.
But that happened already at my birth.
Now I believe only in California,
dressed in flames each scarlet,
smoky year. A paradise built
on fault lines. Like my life, split
at seventeen. Or my soul, a burglar
breaking through the clouds. Not even
the body remains our native country.
Leaving me only the inaccurate
loss of homeland, a place where you go
to die. By nineteen I had a plan:
word by word I would dissolve
into the thousand-year-old
town where I was born,
an old Viking river port,
the river wide as history --
In the fortress-like cathedral,
walls four feet thick, underworld-cold,
above the crown of thorns,
me that shivering dove;
me the bowing of the wind
in the tales of linden trees;
in the empty granaries,
blinding dance of dust and light.
Meanwhile I’ll take the world.
Poets and Dreamers
San Clemente, CA
So we travel on earth seeking the terrain of Poetry, walking through wilderness and empty landscape or visiting those ancient sites like Dholavira in far-western Gujarat, or Mykenai in the Greek Peloponnese, or the Arawak campsite on eastern Carriacou in the Grenadine Windward Isles, pursuing that authenticity of experience in a form of antique material reality...
Kevin McGrath 🐚Yoga of Poetry
“Dare to live the life you have dreamed."
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