Nov 202010
As the ancient stories tell us, invisible
to mortal men, beauty dwells among
the high-capped rocks near a wind gap
arduous to climb. And you must almost
wear your heart out in the struggle
required to attain its height.
On Poetry
Like the bee, she consorts with flowers
to concoct her dream
of a scented, pollen-yellow honey.
On Poetry and Painting
The word is the image of the thing.
Poetry is painting that speaks.
Painting is poetry that’s silent.
translated by Sherod Santos in Greek Lyric Poetry
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