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Showing posts from November, 2009

Richard Meale's Funeral

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* clouds now and then giving men relief from moon viewing soon it will die yet no trace of this in the cicada's screech ailing on my travails my soul wanders over withered mores Three Haiku by Matsuo Basho (1644-1694). The snow upon my lifeless moutains Is loosened into living fountains My solid Oceans flow and sing and shine A spirit from my heart bursts forth It clothes with unexpected birth My cold bare bosom: Oh! it must be thine Oh mine, on mine! Gazing on thee I feel, I know, Green stalks burst forth, and bright flowers grow And living shapes upon my bosom move; Music is in the sea and air, Winged clouds soar here and there, Dark with the rain new buds are dreaming of: 'Tis Love, all Love! Percy Bysshe Sheely (1792-1822). Both these poems were part of funeral. Amanda Meale, with her short bleached hair and face puffy from crying, began her recollections of Richard Meale, haltingly. I would like to begin, she said, by making two corrections to a piece that appeared in the