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Tag: Velma Jean Reeb

Sense and Starwords

Sense and Starwords

You may have noticed Spinozablue being a bit quiet as of late. We’ve been slumbering through the summer, in a way. Breaking out of the slumber, just a bit, we introduce another poem by Velma Jean Reeb, below. It’s entitled, The Gift, and it’s about the stars, and where we come from, and where we might end up, and how. The “why” is another question entirely. The when is a long, long, long time ago and just this second. That’s…

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Velma Jean Reeb: Star Dust

Velma Jean Reeb: Star Dust

THE GIFT My Lord, what a morning, My Lord, what a morning, O my Lord, what a morning When the stars begin to fall. –Entrance hymn, (Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, Second Sunday after Epiphany, January 15, 2006)     After seven years of inter- stellar wanderings, the spacecraft that journeyed halfway to Jupiter, beyond the Earth-Moon Orbit, came back today. It bears precious freight— ageless dust motes, the most primitive particles in the universe, gathered from the…

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Dreaming of Greece

Dreaming of Greece

Before I die, I will sleep in a temple in Greece, a temple dedicated to Aphrodite. I will wake transformed, and wander the hills and valleys once seen by Achilles, Diomedes, Perseus and Heracles. I will find the place where Odysseus came ashore after his exile. I will find the treasures of Mycenae and walk where Agamemnon walked. Athena will watch over me. I will not let a moment pass without finding the ancients in the air. Before Nietzsche, Greece…

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Ah, Greece!

Ah, Greece!

Ah, Greece!   As though looking for the Nativity beneath the neon lights of Christmas hawkers, we searched Greece and found sicca flourishing beneath the bare-boned ruins of our own beginnings.  If Odysseus’ shores are now thick with bikinied beautiful people, the sun that bakes their flesh is the same as the one poor Elpenor saw before his fated, foolish fall.  And if the yachts, flying the brilliant flags of too much diversity, leave no room now for Odysseus’ single-purposed…

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