Frank Golden

Frank Golden is a Clare based poet and novelist. His last book of poems was gotta get a message to you (Salmon Poetry). His last novel was The Night Game (Salmon Fiction)Visit http://www.frankgolden7.com

 

Absolutes

The total catalogue of sounds
Around the standing columns
In the Temple of Apollo,
Vapours rising,
The siege insight,
How fruits fall in demanding moonlight
And inhuman gods
Roam in human elevations.
The rustling of oak leaves
The flight of doves
The transport and cries
Of ethaline-soaked visions,
Plenitudes extinguishing and reforming.
How life and pain
Immeasurably and instructively
And uninstructively
Are.
The knowledge of nothingness
All around us.
Stand here and the world
Vanishes.
Move this way and consciousness
Folds
To variances, dimensions, ends.
Cold loves unerringly traced
With fingers from another age.
Matter and time sequenced and
Poured in planes.
A kink of thinking to expose
The future as known and commensurable.
The past a tangible fruit –
Pomegranate perhaps,
Octagon pearls set side to side
Holding the same deathless essence
The migration of all lifeless life.
It is all there for us
The minor and the major intuition,
As in the day she walked the culvert
Around her house and passed
Through a filch of time.
The gift of persistences in space.
Walk this way for the gnomic weave!
Walk this way for the oracle!
She will tell you what is
At the encoded centre
And what is not.

© 2019 Frank Golden