I cull and offer this and this,
and these last definite whorls
or later star or flower, such
rare dark in another world,
outdistancing us, madness
upon madness, the crest
and hollow, the lift and fall,
ah drift, so soft, so light,
where rollers shot with blue
cut under deeper blue as the
tide slackens when the roar of
a dropped wave breaks into it,
and under and under, this
is clear—soft kisses like bright
flowers— why do you dart and
pulse till all the dark is home?
I am scattered in its whirl.
* * *
This cento is composed exclusively of lines taken from fifteen pages in the Collected Poems of H.D., 6th printing, 1945. Hilda Doolittle is a fascinating figure in 20th century American poetry. You might look at the Poetry Foundation’s biography for further information:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/h-d
O at the Edges 
The imagery in this is fascinating. So beautifully stirring and imaginative.
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The Collected Poems of H.D. is, as you might expect, chock full of superb imagery!
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Fascinating mingling … a fantastic way to “condense” a book … makes this reader wants to go get the full text!
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HD is special!
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Ah .. the rhythm of flows through your words Robert …
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Well, HD gets the credit for this one!
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Who’s HD ..
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Hilda Doolittle, the poet whose words I assembled. An old favorite!
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Ok .. thanks Robert
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