Friday, August 21, 2020

An eye to Ganga Ma from William & Patricia Seaton


(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)

Sunday, August 2, 2020

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