Monday, May 16, 2011

Tennessee Williams

It comes late in the evening towards transpiring rains, accustomed to heavier days but act just the same, swamping the ground and the articles that articulate its grain in the subtle hands of Tennessee Willams poem the couple.  The poem translates one of my favorite southern literary firgures into the emotional decadence that rolls over the natural hue of springs gentle kiss.  On this evening of gray, trains role in the distance and the cicadas wait patiently to vibrate their abdomins in search of mates and unlike the rain and the day of gray that will come again soon, the insects of pray who abondoned this world for the regeneration of the next,  meeting the earth as reasponisble as death and serious as indifferent vessels of instinct based on the preservation of the species, lie sleepless under oaks and await a warmer day to call evolution, creation, or life for it to be taken away.  I have left you with the end of one of my favorite Tennessee Williams poems in the warm hope it will light the way into what ever voids are choosen out of curiousity and love, induced from the human spirit in order to understand morality, in search of what is needed to define what is already known.

DHW

Lightning caught in a bottle!
       How do fireflies live? my sister inquires of me once.
We'll Let's see.
We covered the top of the bottle of captured fireflies with a lid of some kind,
a broken shingle or brick and forgot them till dusk fell again.
And then,
remembering that prison for flickering things,
ran around the house to the back steps under which those tiny thieves of fire had been locked up and abandoned for twelve hours and found
all small giddy sparkles extinguished,
and so learned death.

Tennessee Willams