Category: Poetry

three times she salutes the sun on this foggy day, bowing, her back to where the sun actually is, still facing this spectacular tower, its balance on one leg, its stalk a glamor of wonder

That’s basically what Herrick was saying in his “Delight in Disorder” in which “a sweet disorder” or a “wild civility” is preferable to art which is not “too precise in every part.” In other words, “Your goodness must have some edge to it—else it is none” (Emerson).

We take as much of the whole as possible. There may be “out” and “into” for us, there may not. We do what we do and we acknowledge the mystery. The mysteries, secrets, demons, gods encountered and felt. Wo/Man Intuition: pursuing Beauty.

Beauty is a tug on a fishing line, seeing what you caught, but mostly, taking out the hook and letting it go.

And in that revelation, in that unearthing of grace, a glimpse of the unsayable can be had, an idea of what is centered at the core of our experience, but stays veiled beyond touching until its shadow can be seen in beauteous language.