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POETRY

DRIVING INTO THE DARK

David Selzer By David Selzer5 Comments1 min read1.6K views

For Annabel Honor-Lissi

 

In those stark dreams when sleep shades into waking,

dreams that haunt the light like a taste in the mouth,

or a name half-remembered, half-forgotten,

I am always travelling – this dawn

along the black tops and the turnpikes,

from the Texas Panhandle north east

to Casco Bay, Maine. Ahead is the thought

of moments, or a non-stop two day drive:

from the sun-belt’s stubborn, garish pandemic;

via the fame of Dallas, the sentient

battlefields of the civil war, the rusting

foundries of the east, to stand on the bay’s

windy shore; and contemplate an island,

where black and white war refugees lived

as one – until the prospect of profit

evicted them, and dug up their graves.

The New Meadows River and the Atlantic

swirl round the verdant ruin of Malaga.

Are lost chances ever redeemable?

But no dreams end where they should. The sun

is already setting as I cross

the Red River into Arkansas.

A storm is coming westwards from the Great Plains.

The darkness I am driving into gleams

with centuries of rain.

 

 

 

 

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POETRY

WITH THE EYES OF THE SUN

David Selzer By David Selzer5 Comments2 min read1.6K views

For Erika Ricci and Anna Lisa Rosetti

 

i

 

”I am not dumb now,” was Helen Keller’s proud,

challenging statement of fact. Those who can

see, she said, should be “knights of the blind”.

 

ii

 

From the horsemen of the Apocalypse

to the breaking, millennia ago,

of wild horses on the western steppes

beyond Volga-Matushka – Mother Volga –

these beasts are both utility and symbol.

 

In the Aber Valley, where the Afon Goch –

the Red River – falls precipitously

and the princes of Gwynedd rode and hunted,

there have been feral ponies for centuries,

grazing by the river, under the alders,

unmolested. Last year’s snows culled many.

 

In Ireland, where the horse was revered in myth,

the companion of kings and goddesses,

there are thousands abandoned. In Dublin,

on a cut-off estate – workless, drug-peddled –

a man ran over a horse with a quad bike

repeatedly, and others beat it with planks.

 

iii

 

We visited the Palazzo dei Duchi –

near to the site of the town’s small ghetto –

by the Catania Gate, Taormina,

Sicily, once a medieval palace  built by

Spanish nobles, knights of the inquisition,

now the municipal art gallery.

And, by chance, we encountered a tale

of beasts made beautiful, the lost found.

 

Twenty nine paintings hung in the gallery:

an exhibition – that toured Milan,

Rimini, Terra del Sole and Forli –

to celebrate human diversity

and the curative power of horses.

It was inspired by a horse called King,

an Arabian gelding blinded

by corrosive chemicals –

il cavallo daglie occhi di sole,

the horse with the eyes of the sun.

His affliction, his strength, his compliance

rescued a young woman, an addict,

from her darkened, silenced wilderness.

 

 

 

Note: The Horse With The Eyes Of The Sun http://www.kingilcavallodagliocchidisole.it/king.html

 

 

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