Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Torso of Marilyn Monroe

Apologies for this one. But it is what I always think of when I read . . .

Archaic Torso of Apollo
by Rilke

We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.


ACravan said...

Impressive the way this builds and, uh, surges. I'm trying to get over a laughing attack, which can be dangerous when you're drinking vodka. (She would understand, I think.) Curtis

TC said...

Great, Nin.

Brings back an ur-memory, even pre-dating Rilke.

(And even, for that matter, pre-dating dating.)

EricBourland said...

Hehehehe. Nice.

Lord Charlie said...

Love it (and you), Nin.

Nin Andrews said...

I love the link, Tom.
And I am so glad people liked this one.

As I said, it's what has often crossed my mind when looking at this poem.