Two From The Ellison


IN THE IBERIAN MANNER, FOR PHILOMENE

I am the flower always out of season,
the tree grimly holding the sun's last light.


Long pale staff
ending in smoke and voice.

Uninvented flesh
at the edge of your dream.

But I am he who will always
find you, in any of your clouds,

plunging upward on heavy wings
against the law of rain.

© John Thomas - Heaven

 

PALACES AND COLONNADES, FOR JOHN THOMAS

Palaces, and colonnades, cities
Neither wholly real nor
Wholly in the mind

But I am she who will always find you
Tracing the elusive future;
Tracing the path left in the air

By tomorrow's butterfly
Through the ten thousand seasons
Of sand

© Philomene Long Thomas - Heaven