Sunday, April 20, 2003

Easter and the Time of Rice-Planting

Let me speak with the hurrying tongues of the river
Trapping the crystal light
To challenge the ocean with their coffee wound.

From sunken land speechless kokers stare
Hollow with the teeth of the guillotine
Awaiting the influct tides to stain her womb.

But there are angels in the sky
In the great void of holiness
Blessing the green rice sanctuaries
Ringing inaudible caves of blue and golden bells
Above the hurrying waters.

--A.J. Seymour, p. 125 in the Collected Poems.

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