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Soulstone
Oh great Ganges River,
how brown and murky,
a rushing force
through the world,
passing proliferation,
the chaotic mirror
of civilization.
Tawny flesh in the tropics
enters the strange holy water
for ritualistic ablutions.
The crowds of nude sadhus
splash themselves away
after perhaps months of
imaginitive manifestations.
Fasting stimulates the spiritual
and simulates freedom,
undesiring and contemplative
and cradled in wings,
bringing true bones
to heavenly dimension.
A gorgeous garden of renunciates
follows the rythym
of the supreme soulstone.
This one strikes me with a
This one strikes me with a loss of adequate words. I know of the Ganges River only through Eliot's poetry, but I know nothing whatsoever about the culture that Dalton's poem is describing. The brisk forward motion that he harnasses and directs in his other poems is definitely present here, along with the slow down and full stop in the last four lines. This is Classic Dalton, and distinguishes his poems from so much else on this site. I am especially impressed, in this poem, with the delicate balance between concepts (like "proliferation") and images ("rushing force") and then phrases like "true bones" with combine concept and image. Although, like any other reader, I have no knowledge of the processes that go on in his workshop, I applaud the finished product and submit this respectful request: for Poetry's sake, dont stop!!!
Starward
The sadhu culture dominates
The sadhu culture very oftentimes will dominate my mind
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes