by D.H. Lawrence
I can imagine, in some otherworld
Primeval-dumb, far back
In that most awful stillness, that only gasped and hummed,
Humming-birds raced down the avenues.
Before anything had a soul,
While life was a heave of matter, half inanimate,
This little bit chipped off in brilliance
And went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.
I believe there were no flowers then,
In the world where the humming-bird flashed ahead of creation.
I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.
Probably he was big
As mosses, and little lizards, they say, were once big.
Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster.
We look at him through the wrong end of the telescope of Time,
Luckily for us.
OK, so I’m looking at the hummingbird at the top of the poem and I could swear it changes colors if you stare intensely, although I know it doesn’t change. Am I tripping? 🙂
March 9, 2011 at 08:45
Well Marius… I just had an intense stare at it…I think you are right about it moving…or did you just send me something virtualy? 🙂
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February 20, 2012 at 12:30