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5022#5022 - Thursday, September 12, 2013 - Editor: Gloria Lee

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  • Gloria Lee
    Sep 12, 2013
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      #5022 - Thursday, September 12, 2013 - Editor: Gloria Lee
      Gabriel Rosenstock
      (Ireland, 1949)   
      "Rosenstock is so famously difficult to pin down, that one is slow to try to
      describe him at all. Indeed, this foxy elusiveness may be his defining feature.
      Rosenstock is an extraordinary writer who has authored, edited or translated
      over a hundred books. His poetry, however, is the heart of this body of
      literary work.

      speak, stones!                                                                                         
      why don't you speak?                                                                              
       - deserted village       
      Deserted Village, Achill Island
      Image: Ron Rosenstock
      Text: Gabriel Rosenstock                                

      One of the images from THE AWAKENED EYE (by Fabienne Rivery) inspired this wee poem:
      How did it all happen

      every lone gull
      on a rock is you
      come to ground
      from the flight of ages
      now, look around,
      all this, too, is you -
      how did it all happen

      out of the blue

      Stone Buddha in the garden
      This Monday morning and shadows are dancing
      With the sun
      Or sun dancing with shadows
      And only the face of the Buddha is illumined
      In morning sunshine
      Only the Buddha can gaze
      At the sun –
      The sun within himself.
      A pigeon flies by and does not stop
      To wonder at this face of light.
      But it too is riddled with the same glow
      As are all things.
      Sometimes we await a syllable
      A smile.
      The stone Buddha in the garden
      Is only stone
                                           Gabriel Rosenstock

      centuries of silence
      gathered in the round tower
      of Turlough
      Image: Ron Rosenstock
      Text: Gabriel Rosenstock

      Glencar Waterfall
      sings its own name
      even at night
      Image: Ron Rosenstock
      Text: Gabriel Rosenstock

      the light of dawn –look! –
      dancing itself
      into day
      Morning Mist, Punakha, Bhutan
      Image: Ron Rosenstock
      Text: Gabriel Rosenstock