Summer 1994 • Vol. XVI No. 3 Poetry |

In Conclusion

Art shaped for nothing but your response, who recognize but transcend the forms you activate, in whom the secret seethes, sublime moments the landscape has or sea when touched by rare luminescence, the line where sea, or land, and sky are a joined haze, a mist, a vaporous nothingness, a blinding glow . . . the colors on museum walls a brilliance first revealed in dreams, music that aims at nothing but concordance with your heart. Long ago I sensed what you possess, that there it is where it is actual. A boy still, I had stood amazed by a sight that although until then not faced was as familiar as the mystery itself, future known as the known past it held, water pouring over you, your naked body tense with the power to burst forth foaming, glorious, youthful and like the marble in imitation of you, ageless.

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Geraniums

By Arthur Gregor

Art shaped for nothing but your response, who recognize but transcend the forms you activate, in whom the secret seethes, sublime moments the landscape has or sea when touched by […]

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