360*tree

take my hand and climb with me…

one hundred and seventy three degrees: ‘turning of the season…’

Don’t Carry It All ~ The Decemberists

one hundred and seventy three

Seed, light. Born, of almond. Or pomegranate. Black Friday, castrated. And hung, from a pine. Felled, to remember. Attis. Nailed, to the plane. Of matter. Spirit, contained. And crippled. This mortal, curse. Of ours.

 

We would rather be ruined than changed.

We would rather die in our dread

Than climb the cross of the present

And let our illusions die.

~ W.H. Auden

*

Beneath this bold and brilliant sun…

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One comment on “one hundred and seventy three degrees: ‘turning of the season…’

  1. seanbidd
    March 23, 2013

    The seasons roll as free as thunder, untamed in the storms’ of days, where daylights glare and shimmer dull to a cooler change, to reach a blue sky deeper to the touch, in a chill, oxygen dense, post moments past, un-felled spirit.

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This entry was posted on March 22, 2013 by in Autumn and tagged , , , , , , , .

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