General

Poem of the day. Adrienne Rich



What Is Possible

A clear night           if the mind were clear

If the mind were simple, if the mind were bare
of all but the most classic necessities:
wooden spoon         knife                              mirror
cup                             lamp                              chisel
a comb passing through hair beside a window
a sheet
             thrown back by the sleeper

A clear night in which two planets
seem to clasp each other          in which the earthly grasses
shift like silk in starlight
                                             If the mind were clear
and if the mind were simple          you could take this mind
this particular state         and say
This is how I would live if I could choose:
this is what is possible

A clear night.            But the mind
of the woman imagining all this           the mind
that allows all this to be possible
is not clear as the night
is never simple            cannot clasp
its truths as the transiting planets clasp each other
does not so easily
                                 work free from remorse
does not so easily
                                 manage the miracle
for which mind is famous
                                               or used to be famous
does not at will become abstract and pure

this woman’s mind

does not even will that miracle
having a different mission
                                                 in the universe

If the mind were simple               if the mind were bare
it might resemble a room              a swept interior
but how could this now be possible

given the voices of the ghost-towns
their tiny and vast configurations
needing to be deciphered
                                              the oracular night
with its densely working sounds

If it could ever come down to anything like
a comb passing through hair beside a window

no more than that
                                  a sheet
                                  thrown back by the sleeper
but the mind
of the woman thinking this          is wrapped in battle
is on another mission
a stalk of grass        dried feathery weed        rooted in snow
in frozen air stirring          a fierce wand graphing

Her finger also tracing
pages of a book

knowing better than the poem she reads
knowing through the poem
                                                  through ice-feathered panes
the winter
                   flexing its talons
the hawk-wind
                            poised to kill


To know more about our poetry project, check our dedicated page on the ProMosaik website  ProMosaik Poetry Page.

In the following you can download our newsletter about the last poetry projects we did in German, English, Italian, French, Greek, Russian and Turkish.
If you are a poet, and would like to introduce your work to be interviewed by us check our interview page on the ProMosaik website here.

If you would like to publish your poetry book with us, see here.