An eye to Ganga Ma from William & Patricia Seaton

 

Mahashamsana

 

(Varanasi is sometimes called by this name

when regarded as the great cremation ground

for the corpse of the universe.  During nightly

services at the Dasaswemedh Ghat, worshippers

set tiny candles afloat.)

 

I walked the ghats with holy men and touts,

and monkeys eyeing every scrap of food.

The river Shiva loved flows by obscure

with corpses, chemicals, and shit.  The god

must grin at dissolution bright and fine

and welcome every shred of tender flesh,

though Mother Ganges hardly could care less,

indifferent, hosting pathogens and fish,

and bearing the brief flame of every wish.

(poem by Willian Seaton from Planetary Motions; photo by Patricia Seaton)

from William Seaton's soon-to-be-released PLANETARY MOTIONS

photo by Celia Seaton

His thoughts flowed

inevitable though irregular

like the veining in a fly’s wing

seen through a child’s first microscope,

looking very like a new-found-land,

with aboriginal sages and wondrous novel fruits,

in colors never seen before, now echoing still half a lifetime later,

and shedding still some light even at the fallen depth

of middle age;

 

like a watershed from the heavens’ view

with nestled vales and sudden rights and lefts,

with unexpected islands that loom up and have their day and vanish

ingenious muskrats like the one that first built earth up out of mud;

 

those thoughts flowed very like the wind

that takes each turn that comes along the way

and skims on top of fast food sheds and cars and busy men,

seeking some Zephyr in the stratosphere, some sweet high air

above the birds and plans, with which to mix and drift