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| Bronze
Cupid Sleeping On A Lion Skin (1635–40)signed F, based on the marble attributed to Praxiteles. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Loves Art participant "va_va_val" [CC BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)] Wikimedia Commons |
MEDIAL EROS
O, medial heart
my sleeping eros
how quickened have I been in sight
by love forgetful that love is a set of
twins whose nature is duplicitous!
Eros, that tutelary spirit, grabbed him
my creative Psyche by her beastial tale.
If logos real does create psyche in a
mythic tale, my own myth of love
will have been first emanation
& I must now take this medial leave
to find how eros creates “me” for real.
How shall I be reborn now
in time from within
that space, making time for time
mythic tale, my own myth of love
will have been first emanation
& I must now take this medial leave
to find how eros creates “me” for real.
How shall I be reborn now
in time from within
that space, making time for time
to intervene between
that erotic in-pulse & creative action,
making time for my timing to play
its part, play “for real” its own felt
sense at work between these erotic beats?
You, too? How then shall we each set about
finding how love got us passively &
promiscuously pregnant in a tale?
It was an eros tale of a mountain tree
with a cupid’s well beneath it.
It reached high.
It reached low.
It duplicitously wailed.
There’s a long labor ahead of us.
There’s a difficult birth ahead for us.
How an unknown psychic achievement
draws my psyche away from man
way out there down here. It promises
it will have loosened the limbs of my tree;
it will have fashioned my soul in joy.
And in my left turn, the left
that in turning
leaves
©2016 A Leaving
Tale: stephanie pope mythopoetry.com
that erotic in-pulse & creative action,
making time for my timing to play
its part, play “for real” its own felt
sense at work between these erotic beats?
You, too? How then shall we each set about
finding how love got us passively &
promiscuously pregnant in a tale?
It was an eros tale of a mountain tree
with a cupid’s well beneath it.
It reached high.
It reached low.
It duplicitously wailed.
There’s a long labor ahead of us.
There’s a difficult birth ahead for us.
How an unknown psychic achievement
draws my psyche away from man
way out there down here. It promises
it will have loosened the limbs of my tree;
it will have fashioned my soul in joy.
And in my left turn, the left
that in turning
leaves
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