Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Letter to Issa
Letter to Issa
Reflectedin the
dragonfly's eye. . .
mountains.
Issa (1763-1867)
O, Issa,
here I am
a person of no consequence
wiritng to a poet
long dead.
Issa, what is a dragonfly’s eye?
Is it a mirror
we walk through
each morning
to enter
our assumed
relied-upon world?
Is it a well
tunneling into
caverns of darkness
and strangely lit hovering landscapes
we travel and call
our dwelling place?
Is it a map of our own
features,
etched immutable
on a scarf of gold,
something to carry with us,
a reminder,
a talisman,
conundrum daring us
to solve?
copyrght, Dorothy Walters
Reflectedin the
dragonfly's eye. . .
mountains.
Issa (1763-1867)
O, Issa,
here I am
a person of no consequence
wiritng to a poet
long dead.
Issa, what is a dragonfly’s eye?
Is it a mirror
we walk through
each morning
to enter
our assumed
relied-upon world?
Is it a well
tunneling into
caverns of darkness
and strangely lit hovering landscapes
we travel and call
our dwelling place?
Is it a map of our own
features,
etched immutable
on a scarf of gold,
something to carry with us,
a reminder,
a talisman,
conundrum daring us
to solve?
copyrght, Dorothy Walters
