Friday, December 4, 2015

A Room of My Own: Absent Presence

wings of a crow
beating winter stars ...
her last breath

my first talk
with God ...
stratus clouds


  1. I like each poem, this sequence, the kinds of "movement" between inner and outer, primeval and contemporary, death and life, crow, god, woman, man, meterology, and imagination. And, I am somewhat reminded of Theodore Roethke's poem, "Night Crow":

    Night Crow

    When I saw that clumsy crow
    Flap from a wasted tree,
    A shape in the mind rose up:
    Over the gulfs of dream
    Flew a tremendous bird
    Further and further away
    Into a moonless black,
    Deep in the brain, far back.

    Thank you, Chen-ou Liu.

    Donna Fleischer

    1. Dear Donna:

      Many thanks for your close reading and for sharing your wonderful thought.

      And I enjoyed reading Theodore Roethke's "Night Crow." A Blyian leaping image poem infused with psychological depth.

      Have a nice weekend.