Leonard Cohen was an island (part 2)

I now know why
he chose an island of the blue:
it wasn’t for ease
or cheap squid and retsina.

Callings are quiet voices
that barely move a thought of breath
in apprehension.
Sense must arise from telling vagueness,
a murmur in the line of sight.
Blue print of primitive life,
where primitive means to live by faith.

White stone and horseshoe harbour
the set and setting for hunger,
and the ascetic who follows the wine.
Everted exile: chosen, designed.

All that mythic seriousness, yes,
though his laughter wasn’t a choice
but the deepest agreement
with the natural ordering.

A diaspora of one
he used a liturgy of words
to mark the end of desire in song.
(Curious concept;
it didn’t last long.)

No comments:

Post a Comment

Nice comments are welcome!