Psalm

Pisanello (c. 1395 – probably 1455)Veritas sequitur …

In the small beauty of the forest
The wild deer bedding down—
That they are there!
                              Their eyes
Effortless, the soft lips
Nuzzle and the alien small teeth
Tear at the grass
                              The roots of it
Dangle from their mouths
Scattering earth in the strange woods.
They who are there.
                              Their paths
Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them
Hang in the distances
Of sun
                              The small nouns
Crying faith
In this in which the wild deer
Startle, and stare out.

George Oppen

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5 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Beautiful

    • Thank you. I think so. Pisanello always makes my heart swell. And Oppen is so sweet.

      I love finding out about New Zealand your way. From the tiny birds, to to the silhouettes of citizens—
      your little musical pup, of course—and the fickle weather donning clouds (nice one).

      You’ve been very kind, and it’s been nice to make your acquaintance.

      • Thank you

  2. How I missed this I do not know. Soft and tender like the muzzles of the deer.

    • Of all the beautiful images, I think this is my favorite. And only simple words would do–Nothing to detract from it.
      Yes, I look at the delicacy & swell of the body, but what I imagine feeling is that silk.


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