Metanoetic Poetics: May 2015

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

<war>

when crows find it simple

to tell the truth

<\anytime>

<\thistime>

<bare>

stripped to a face

with no skin,

no room for fire -

thing like a rag

doused with gas

and burning tire

<time/>

1943

<olga\>

the camp whore

tripped in an open

pot of hot oil

and survived

he swam thru

sewer shit to crawl

beyond the wire -

we caught him picking

pant legs from the barbs:

blood sprinkled

white dancing shoes

when captain shot him

mountain ash berries

red as blood

smelled like carrion,

lasting a lifetime

back home, he broke

his wife's arm, made

get rich quick schemes,

and terrified the children

</return>

</portent>

</Helsinki>

</escape>

</Leningrad>

</bare>

</war>

Monday, May 25, 2015

<contrail>

scratched sky

calling:

not bondage, not air

paint your love for me

like the jet

</cardinal>

</contrail>

Saturday, May 23, 2015

<words>

rags and pearls

mimed from mother's face

seeking that stitch

of escape

</spirit>

</words>

<beauty>

blinding me

I have only myself to blame,

seeking the bones that line

spirit

<\forgive>

</forget>

</beauty>

Friday, May 22, 2015

Portal, Abiquiu 2014

Raven Lookout, Abiquiu 2014

Fence, Abiquiu 2014

Morada, Abiquiu 2014

Borders

Plane trees and hydrangeas

shade vixens beneath a nubile

moon. Their cackle torments

the dreaming dog.

I fish frogs from the pool water.

Hawk shadow imprints the surface,

talon awaiting feast as the world sleeps.

If only I were a tree I'd know how to rest alone,

or a stone enduring what it is to be.

Or fog so I learn how to dream.

in outposts on the border

where habits and codes unravel,

earth's dark faith seeks light,

shadow and salvation

Trees know no time,

They can stand alone.

Spring leaves grow in old bark,

writing untold stories.

Seeding and reaping,

the day traces my shadow like

raindrops in night's dry mouth.

This world marks me

with blood and dust,

putting grit in my teeth

to grind, teaching its harsh

lesson of survival.

find your way in ice and snow,

doubt, distrust, and heart's deceit

in pilgrimage to unknown worlds

from outposts at the border

Sweeping urge

to clean up dust at the door -

bring me to the crypt,

cauterize my wound

with a life to erect,

or remains to discard.

I want to be born

in new worlds

and burn from my brain

the faces of lie

and despair in this one.

<neighbor>

<dusk>

the heat of the day

cuts its dry, cracked

teeth into the cool

wind from desert sage

and mountain firs

I watch you watching me

there behind the gate

where you park your RV

is it suspicion bred

by moonless night?

resentment coiled

like a rattler

around lavic stone?

or is it just the end of years

creeping into joints

and jaw, setting them aflame

with terror and awe?

love your neighbor

as you love yourself

<ר֫וּחַ>

the body and spirit

sleep soon enough

the blood flows

too much where

it will never rain

</ר֫וּחַ>

</commandment>

</emptiness>

</silence>

</dusk>

</neighbor>

<dishes>

celebrate

the stain of things past,

the reward of the hunt,

the work of the hands,

the purity of tears

</dishes>

<love>

laugh and cry

with the demons

<door>

nothing's sacred

but prayers

coming home

</door>

<\unconditional>

</love>

Thursday, May 21, 2015

<animal>

Image: Robert Rauschenberg, Tree of Life Prune

<twigs>

i snap segments with my nails

on the walk from the train -

a primal grammar

<\patience>

</twigs>

</animal>

<sticks>

picking up

washing wounds

in a hotel room

<\canyon>

</waterfall>

</sticks>

Reserved

<commute>

bluebells dancing in the rain

magic circle of rhyme -

mute lives, blind words

</old songs>

</commute>

<hummingbird>

outside my window

what word from the dead?

</nectar>

</hummingbird>

<baby>

breathing hard in sleep

<stars>

what makes him

fight to see dawn?

</stars>

</baby>

<sun>

soul mate

<earth>

soft fingers

rain pours down

<\seeds>

</earth>

</sun>

<garbage>

Image: Dirty White Trash by Tim Noble and Sue Webster, 1998

parsed into halves,

decay

in not beginning

<hoard>

good and evil

erected around

dying moments

</hoard>

<\zeno>

</garbage>

<bay>

Image: Paul Klee

fiddling a tune
the waves
jig on the sand
as chaos dies,

fileted like a fish
</storm>
</bay>

<mnemonic>

<shell>

fading gray nerves

gnarled fingers

<body>

broken like water

in a dry arroyo

:recalling nights

when it was hero

in their romance:

shoulders fail

holding up skin machine,

seeking flame

to become pure

ash in wind

sighing sighs

singing dusk

the voice

of the desert

breeze - love

without measure

< אָהַב>

</אָהַב>

</repair>

</spirit>

</body>

</shell>

<\erasure>

<\oblivion>

</mnemonic>