Posted inReality
Two poems by Mary Oliver and Wei Wu Wei
Mary Oliver: The Lilies Break Open Over the Dark Water Inside that mud-hive, that gas-sponge, that reeking leaf-yard, that rippling dream-bowl, the leeches' flecked and swirling broth of life, as rich as Babylon, the fists crack open and the wands of the lilies quicken, they rise like pale poles with their wrapped beaks of lace; one day they tear the surface, the next they break open over the dark water. And there you are on the shore, fitful and thoughtful, trying to attach them to an idea— some news of your own life. But the lilies are slippery and wild—they are devoid of meaning, they are simply doing, from the deepest spurs of their being, what they are impelled…
