Journal Entries
I can dig it; he can dig it; she can dig it; we can dig it; they can dig it. Can you dig it?
Posted Jul 28, 2001
Just another note for clarification:
My poetry is fine for anyone to read, but please get my permission before using it. Be sure to give me proper credit.
--Cooper
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Latest reply: Jul 28, 2001
Mama, OOOO, didn't mean to make you cry. If I'm not back again this time tomorrow. . .
Posted Jul 28, 2001
More poetry, but only a draft.
(Me being metaphysical (sort of))
Seven Moments, One Moment
I
in the moment before creation
the echo of birds
hung upon my ear
and bits of reflected starlight
caught my eye
II
one moment the world stopped
ceased
and I moved among its
constituent parts
held each one
III
in the moment of my pain
I lay on the hill
and watched hosts
opposites and equals
water the heavens with their life
IV
the moment of understanding
tasted when I drank
celestial mists
from my cupped hand
was the moment of darkness
V
in my first moment
I stood on that hill
and surveyed
the fires of consumption
and rebirth
VI
for a moment before the sun was
I touched
radiant golden earth
it crumbled easily
as I held it
VII
in the last moment I was whole
I stepped implacably
toward incompleteness
and opened my hand
Lataz
--Cooper
Discuss this Journal entry [5]
Latest reply: Jul 28, 2001
Ho ho!
Posted Jul 13, 2001
And, of course, this one, too:
Formation and Ionisation of Water
One red moon circles one
blue planet: yang
and yin, separated
by definition.
One moon and one
planet follow the
ancient reel, giddy
with speed and perfection.
Yin
twirls out in her blue
dress. He releases
her hand,
lets go of his anchor
to her, spins off
into the inky dark,
joins the green-clad woman
and her lovers
in the ancient rite. The planet
follows
and falls out of time:
the lone, moonless planet spins in space.
Discuss this Journal entry [5]
Latest reply: Jul 13, 2001
Ha ha!
Posted Jul 13, 2001
Newest draft:
Breaking the Henge
I stand within the circle,
Stones around me,—
the deeds of my fathers offered to the whirling lightning
& heavy rasping sand—
& I cannot see the stars.
Can darkness exist without the light,
alone & no rival,
no equal & opposite action
against which to react?
I cannot see the tiny bright dæmons working
at the limited edge of my limited perception,
lurking in the murky sand-filled reliefs
& etchings on the bases of the Stones.
Their grindings are lost in the wind-whistle.
Can a man exist outside the beast?
Can a man rise higher?
Can a man exist
without Stones
to bleed him dry
or feed his thirst?
I lean against the wind, & the heavy sand
drops out of speed-induced solution
& onto the rough-hewn deck behind me. My skin
is scoured away,
& my flesh cries out:
“Darkness within the light,
beast inside the man,
what is your price?
What is the price you paid?”
Tiny bright dæmons work at the Stones
with their teeth & horns, blasted
by the eternal sands: one careens off
into the desert night & across
the periphery.
Sand blasts me, & I collapse, fœtal. The body, still, remains.
I have crossed the periphery, & the body remains.
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Jul 13, 2001
Stuff
Posted May 16, 2001
Just to clarify for everyone:
The previously posted poems are first drafts, not finished works. When I finish them (2, 3 months so, maybe) I'll probably post 'em.
--Cooper
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: May 16, 2001
Cooper the Pacifist Poet
Researcher U172180
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