You would have me see my sin and fly from it.
You would have me see my sin and fly from it.
But Constance wrapped in grass
creates distraction
dancing in the yard
dripping dew
so that being a worm
is not so bad.
I would have you safe in my pocket.
But just your coming near
cover disappears
running from this shame
falling down
so that making you mine
is not so good.
We would both havenothave what is (not) so
But gods often collide
constantly riding
shining at the black
slipping hands
so that being as one
is not so.
stop.
never knowing,
always sowing,
growing empty,
stop.
remembering a year ago
Soon, we will all go to visit her, that silent screaming one that broke our hearts a year past. If I miss her, it will be because she marked the beginning of tragedy upon tragedy; if not, it is for the same. From her, we learn that Death testifies to the cruel frigidity of Life, which is chaotic in its mercy, inconsistent in its gifts, and of the darkest humour. No matter how one frames Carol’s passing on, no matter what words of comfort be found, in the end, all that is certain is that these attempts of balm are but well-meaning hands to cover our eyes from seeing the deep, profound cruelty that is this cancer-stricken world in which we live. Our only option is to fight as she did into the creeping shade.
Rock of Ages
spinning freely, often dreary, fallen presently, I will find it
….
he tripped upon the path,
shouted GOD DAMN YOU
and realized he was talking to a Stone.
Afzaneh in Quiet
Afzaneh glides upon farsh of fallen leaves in quiet;
golden broken weave to darkened forest leads in quiet.
Upon Izrael and Jibrael her steps leave no stain,
murmur prayers of elusion unto the trees in quiet.
Beyond the twilight’s bleeding heart abstruse she says he lives,
visioned blind yet child Afzaneh like wine frees in quiet.
And as Oenanthe flies to Hellen’s longed for blossomed fruit
Echo responds Afzaneh’s longing breeze in quiet.
As leaves, light, life consumed so dreams bind up the Prophet’s wound –
she sinks beneath humus now lies with peace in quiet.
everything is starting to shift
Things have been off of late.
Doors cracking open, the black man that explodes over his heels is full of blue light, everything is bathed/muddied into the crystal of a madman’s eyes. Jesus shakes hands with Ahriman and Someone falls downs with a frown, pulling h[is/er] eyes out with the petals of a thousand petaled lotus.
What is this light? Someone asks, and only the blind saint in the suit who reads the Qur’an has an answer. Yesterday, he says, I walked with this cane in darkness, today, I hit with it and never miss. A crash follows, and Someone bursts, water flowing, blue, lost in Light, horizon gone, firmament fuddled.
An undoing, an unravelling, a righting of a crookedlygoingworld is passing through, effacing the edges like an army of spittingup camels.
fragile
O. is so fragile she thinks she’ll never break,
But shattered dreams are all she has
To keep away the pain he brings.
Clutching fast Niobe’s stone
Whose river wears her heart to bone,
Not even Boreas her sediment takes;
Alone, in stone, fragile, remains.