Gabriel Olearnik
  • Gabriel Olearnik
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Wanderer

  • The sea has soaked my heart
  • and so my soul will take the road
  • the spume playing
  • a billow on a bright wind.
  • And if I am alone, it does not matter
  • for Poseidon is a friend again
  • the east wind my brother
  • the plumes are like the furrowed earth
  • the spray is like the tears of god.
  • Arcadia is ahead, the place where
  • sails pass for tents, anchors turn to plows
  • where oars are a thresh for grain
  • where hearts find their native land.

Lodge

  • Stay like the woodsmoke
  • between cut boughs
  • of pine.
  • Settle like the strike
  • of bells
  • on fastnesses
  • of mountain white.
  • For here is also Tao
  • Confucius waiting on the road
  • for new disciples, a mulberry bush, a bird
  • Here Herodotus is leaving Harcarnassus
  • Buddha is being born
  • A Republic dimly considered
  • A tyrant choked with a pillow
  • Here the voice
  • brilliant as magnesium
  • (because I love you
  • you will not die).

Gabriel Olearnik studied medieval history and art at University College London. He has published two collections of poetry: Amor de Lohn (A Distant Love) and Gunpowder Square. His third collection, Wolf Sermons, is scheduled to be released this fall.

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