crooked rose

near my iMac, i hung a page from a calendar one of my printers did, years and years ago. this particular calendar was designed like no other i'd ever seen, which is partly why i like it. for example, the month of january had all its days in ogham.

the february page is what i have hanging up. it shows a huge white rose, petals full-blown, as a dark plum duotone with a textured gloss varnish, giving the effect of looking at the rose through the veil. on the page, is the first stanza from dylan thomas' "the force that through the green fuse drives the flower," which is one of my favorite poems. ever. the first stanza is something i think of so much it has now become a personal prayer.

so, this morning, as i was glancing at the page, i thought i'd give you the poem in its entirety.


The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

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