The migratory gathering of northern aquatic birds have vanished,
only local ducks, geese and other fauna hidden in reeds, remain.
A sun, so bright, has taken to the skies; buds have swollen.
Again, looking out over this lake of talking waters, its symbolic gibbering
of what winds have brought to shore in subtle story breezes.
Near the shallows Barrow's Goldeneye dive to bottom salads,
Harry Houdini's escaped magic ducks; now you see them, now you don't.
What seem empty branches yield flowers and small feathered streaks
red-lining a sound frequency of bird chat, twitter or colloquial colloquy.
One more afternoon walk with easy stride and free association's couch.

-cec

Jean Gebser,  Winter Poem 1944:

“Das Wintergedicht”

"Who speaks of the future?
Who counts
in saying:
“It shall be”?
Look outward
and you see within:
It is. ..."

"Within,
beyond the fountains, rivers, and stars
the poet’s task
to face the entire contents [of word, language]
emerges,
and accordingly
it is an honest, soundless state of no-longer-speaking."
...

"Sposa ..." by Vivaldi sung by Bartoli,
Plays ...

wives disrespected, ignored, forgotten
she, resounded, off tract, forlorn
found, you, a treasure in Neptune's ocean
faithful to your heart and female notions
then we braced in loving arms
pressing full these bodies charms
when highest notes did meet in kiss
this world, fell away, as though in mist
and all there was were these two souls
immersed in classic rapture ritual
as time spun down this tape of bliss
your mortal coils did drift amiss
though in this heart you always play
this dream's music throughout dog's day

-cec

German Industrial Music spurns —
pounding out its well oiled skirmishes
precision geared for optimal churn
dystopically torn and ragged dervishes
chemically masked in shrouded breathing
turn tables on society's expectant cadres
scrawling doodles on the walls of empire;
wired electrical schematics of stronger emotions
with exploded views of heart's spirited pistons

-cec

Once, life was happening
Now,
It just happens