Constantine Cavafy 69. GAZING All the beauty I ever saw before - yes, all of it; none of it abandoned - has turned into an archetypal image lost in the creeping foliage of my brain among thick lianas and the wide mouths of carniverous plants. Sometimes when the moon is full the creature stands in the moon-drenched glades of my dreaming mind and calls to me. His eyes are milky opals; his body is half-feral – nothing there of classic Parian marble or of smooth helmeted hair arranged in becoming curls across the high wide forehead. As for the look of love, the face of love, long-lashed poetical glances brimming with creative fire – his is the face of the unknown god lurking in blackness beyond the stars; the face that haunted evenings and dark nights of secret assignations, ecstatic couplings. The face I never found, the one to which the others only lead. ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­__________________________________________________ The opening reading is from Shelley's Defence of Poetry. The picture I have used to illustrate my ideas is by the stunning Peruvian artist Boris Vallejo who needs no introduction from me - go, seek him out on the Net if you do not know him, and you will be utterly captivated by his artistic genius - who is, I note with some satisfaction (being a devotee of the lore of astrological attraction!) just one week senior to myself.

 Please support PoetryVisualized.com. Any amount helps | $1 | $5 | $10 | or more |
Thank You!