Prague: Charles Bridge

Three forts adorned with arms linked by a rosary
Where fervour was captured in stone and in pageant,
Were a jail roofed with slate and with epic legend
That in twisted soaring flared up - a cemetery

If it were not prolonged by a new reasoning
For gold waits in the mud and is to sprout ready
And song and marble must mingle their ecstasy
To make meads of knowledge thrive for the haymaking.

This is a cry-scanned arch uniting high and low,
Where intent demons strive to bend the vaulted bow
To be better mirrored, torn to shreds, in the silt,

And leaning o'er the stream where lies this dead shadow,
I am lost, wondering if I am gate or bridge
And leave my reflection for the river to shift.

poem by Michel Galiana
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Song For A Moray 5: Age

You have surged from my deepest night
But it's night that swells your bosom
An echo follows the faint light
Are you that star that took to flight
Or the herdsman who goads it on

The Ports of the Levant of love
Are the marks on my roundabout
Way to mystery. I must rove
Endlessly but I shall disclose
The sunny side of the dark route

Unswerving like a torpedo
Or a sword pointing to the breast
Well you know the straight way to go
And you topple in vertigo
What lying lips strove to erect

Lost with all arms lost with all hands
I sunk in this Sargasso sea

[...] Read more

poem by Michel Galiana
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