Posted on June 20, 2010 by Amy Lenzo

by David Sparenberg

Photo by Amy Lenzo

Since Bach first made a fugue
the simplest melody of a flute
on a hill
has been looked on as poverty.
But a hill is not poverty.
Day, daylight, the sun, seasons
breathed through the flute player, sent
dancing through the wooden throat
of a finger-holed flute—
this is not poverty.  Go aside
‘til you find the paradise of simplicity.
Ask yourselves there in that
kingdom of God:
What is the worth of philosophy?
What is the truth of ecosophy?

It is one way
to have your head in the clouds like
a sound splitting machine.
It relates differently
to walk the earth
tenderly in breathing rhythms
and to make footprints
shared by butterfly and salamander
by red fox
and round eyed deer.
Since Heidegger explained
the Fragments have lost the
verb and numen of wholeness.
The way the imagination
grows wingless
and identifies with walls
in a world without trees.

David Sparenberg

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