Two Poems by Pauletta Hansel


Why I Write

Always the hope
it is more artichoke than onion,
and I am heading toward
a plump, sweet mystery
the surface never can reveal.

Or like tapping mother's crystal goblets,
each resonating note heard only
in relation to the other--
yes this; not that; these together
make the tune.


Always Looking at the Wrong Thing

Not the sweet bruised flesh
but the worm's sharp wounding.

Not the fruit
but its weight.

Not the day
but the dark that frames it.

Not the garden
but the gate.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes."

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery