The Sunday Poem: Stewart S. Warren... Spring Tide

This world is ever revealing and ever concealing.  We get the briefest glimpse of something, then it disappears.  So as you reach for that cup of coffee this morning, remember that the steaming cup you see is not the cup that is.  And Stewart Warren?  Why he's smiling.

Stewart runs Mercury Heartlink Publishing, which specializes in books that show "an authenticity on the part of the author and a responsibility to positive social impact."  Four of Heartlink's titles are finalists in The 2012 New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards.  

Spring Tide
from Thanksgiving it looks like this
This wave, this one
rolling in, blinding
scimitar of our age, disclosure,
deliverance, a solar wind
but not from our far flung star.
A deeper blue sent
from a deeper core,
spring tide of our galaxy, now
less than a moon away.
The seen is cleaved
from the seer,
all thought to be holy
is hushed to the side.
Doors closed are open,
streets are swept,
every road rises.
Where you are
is the point of contact,
every white cap
finds the shore.

Poetry submissions are welcome.  Email

Views: 90

Comment by Izquierdo on November 25, 2012 at 7:28pm

Yes, great poem, and I also appreciate the Ditchrider's line that sets it up for me: "the steaming cup you see is not the cup that is."

Comment by Margaret Randall on November 26, 2012 at 5:00am

I love this poem. Especially the lines "the seen is cleaved / from the seer" seems pertinent here in Central America, where I have spent the past two weeks exploring Maya ruins. The seen is here, if you have eyes to see it. But the seer is here as well, accompanying one through the dense jungle... not concerned with that December 21st date so hyped around the world and so upsetting to the Maya who live here now, but in his/her everyday continuous and infinite wisdom of how life moves in ongoing spiral. Getting on line here and reading this poem from our home place, Albuquerque, reminds me of our complex connections.

Comment by Dee Cohen on November 26, 2012 at 6:52am

We can always count on Stewart to search for and find the heart of a poem. I love the fleeting point of contact, always touching, always changing,. Thank you Stewart & Ditchrider.


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