by Lawrence Durrell
And to-day death comes to the house.
To-day upon the waters, the sunset sail,
Death enters and the swallow's eye
Under the roof is no larger and darker
Than this scent of death.
A disciple crossed over by water.
The acorn was planted.
In the Ionian villa among the marble
The fountain plays the sea's piano,
And by the clock the geometric philosopher
Walks in white linen while death
Squats in the swallow's eye.
The dogs are muzzled. Lord,
See to the outer gate, our protection.
I rest between the born and the unborn.
The father, the mother, the baby unicorn
Intercede for me, attended the christening.
I have friends in the underworld.
by Stanley Kunitz
Earth was my home, but even there I was a stranger. This mineral crust. I walk like a swimmer. What titanic bombardments in those old astral wars! I know what I know: I shall never escape from strangeness or complete my journey. Think of me as nostalgic, afraid, exalted. I am your man on the moon, a speck of megalomania, restless for the leap toward island universes pulsing beyond where the constellations set. Inﬁnite space overwhelms the human heart, but in the middle of nowhere life inexorably calls to life. Forward my mail to Mars. What news from the Great Spiral Nebula in Andromeda and the Magellanic Clouds?
I was a stranger on earth.
Stepping on the moon, I begin
the gay pilgrimage to new
in foreign galaxies.
Heat. Cold. Craters of silence.
The Sea of Tranquillity
rolling on the shores of entropy.
the intelligence of the stars.