Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Latest Poetry from Adolfo Caso... Hosta

boulder in hosta garden DSC_6238Image by Gregs Landscaping via Flickr


by Adolph Caso

One would have us believe
the boulders
scattered in my backyard
were brought there
from faraway Colorado
on conveyor belts of the ice age
through subterranean tunnels
dug out of volcanic lava,
into the outcrop in my yard.

the boulders
in my backyard
are there
from the beginning of time
when the earth formed--
and I do not know who created them
why they are there.
I look into each structure
and see Michelangelo’s torsos
emerge from their amorphous marble
awaiting the guided hand
to give form to pre-existing life
in search of freedom,
as if
Michelangelo were
the true creator!

I stand
in silent wonderment
in front of primal creation:
You, my boulders
(preceding all else
and all else
from your rocky cores
long before the rains
reduced you to granules,
long before the winds
swept across the earth
to form the soil)--
you continue to stand silently
over your own reduced forms
your granule-bearing life forms.

Miracle of miracles!
Photo by Adolfo
From within its deep crevice
breaking out to achieve its freedom
as in Michelangelo’s blocks of marble
a bunch of Hosta leaves
are propping up their single stem
laden with bell petals of purple
undulating across the boulder—
a living form
from stone
whose time
goes back to the beginning
when the earth was nothing--
rock formations seeking a single orbit.
Around the ridge of Mount Vesuvius
the broom flower
glows in its golden petals
a challenge to the mighty volcano,
its numbered eruptions
in contrast to the eternal gold of the broom
outlasting each and every eruption,
testimony that life has preceded
and the boulders
scattered in my backyard whose
vulnerable Hosta
grows from within
in defiance of time
within the broken boulder
through which
this purple flower
achieves its annual form
to reveal an existence going back
to when the earth was formed.

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