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per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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something from last year
Last March, I took a "Poetry Master Class" at the Smithsonian. It was a good experience- I didn't necessarily agree with the teacher on a lot of things, but it was interesting and useful to get critiqued by him and the others in the class.

We had to pick an object in the Smithsonian, and write about it. This is what I ended up with:

Two Falcons


Fierce, indifferent to the echoing, coiling
Strains of Chinese pipes drifting past, eyes blank
To all but their guardian task. How strange their flight-
Crowns of the Two Lands reft from brows,
Names of alien gods carved beneath their feet;
Brown stone of their forms, solid and enduring,
Reliable as the river’s flood and fall,
Yet chipped and eroded- blurred by distance:
From home, from prayer, from offered wine.
Millennia-old even at their inception
In the mason’s yard, yet unwearied; sold
Uncaring from master to master,
Still they stand, faithful to their watch.


You are warned.
How needless the ugly scrawl on the bare pedestal-
Your graceless tongue offends our sight.
Words closer to your danger lie beneath
Our feet- gods of the invaders
In their proper place, subjected;
Names also unlovely, but power-laden:
Love and Might, terrible but fair
And fascinating. You frail ones
Are ever moth to their flames.
Even these, though, are afterthoughts.
Simply gaze on us- talons, beaks,
Pitiless blank stone glare, heavy-browed,
Ominous as the Destroyer’s storms-
Think what havoc our lesser, lighter
Brethren wreak in prey’s hot blood;
Shudder, and pass us by.

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VERY cool. Thanks for sharing.

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