An odor from a star

An odor from a star

Sunday evening fades
           by an open window
summer has danced
           the day long
and it’s time to read
           the words in my heart
to spell out the compendium
           that I am of dreams and how
at this point in time
           it would be wrong
for rain to fall
           through my universe

Imagine that there are lilacs
           here on the page
and that their heady aroma
           hangs heavy in the air
imagine a room teeming
           with the scent of roses
and that a proud thorn has drawn
           a trickle of my blood

I call every atom of myself

           my own and yet how
to distinguish them
           from all others
that have made the journey
           to this day ?

Atoms are blue and countable
           if we put our hands together
: with needle and thread
           she sewed the tender buttons
onto the soft fragrant silk
           a shadow bent
in the silence of her words
           of her love

John Lyons


Some of the above words were drawn from the poem below by Wallace Stevens

Carnet de Voyage

An odor from a star
Comes to my fancy, slight,
Tenderly spiced and gay,
As if a seraph’s hand
Unloosed the fragrant silks
Of some sultana, bright
In her soft sky. And pure
It is, and excellent,
As if a seraph’s blue
Fell, as a shadow falls,
And his warm body shed
Sweet exhalations, void
Of our despised decay.

Wallace Stevens, Uncollected Poems

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