Posts
::Spirits of Salt, Mutus Liber and the Huguenots ::
How can war feel this good?
Like superheated gold,
my gut is alight with acid.
A burgeon, alchemical,
a spine made of carmot,
my blood is aqua regia.
From Saint Bartholomew's Day
until the Edict of Nantes,
I was the stone that caused men to stumble
and a rock that made them fall.
How can war feel this good?
Like superheated gold,
my gut is alight with acid.
A burgeon, alchemical,
a spine made of carmot,
my blood is aqua regia.
From Saint Bartholomew's Day
until the Edict of Nantes,
I was the stone that caused men to stumble
and a rock that made them fall.
::dance alone::
i
can dance
like
i'm not white
i
can dance
like
no one
else is there
even when
every one i love
is sweating
around me
i
can move
in ways
that please
you
and me
i
can hold
you closer
and closer
until
we no
longer care
how the
sweat beads on
both
our foreheads
pooling in
the smalls
of our backs
evaporating
not quite
fast enough
::Catatonia::
I've done it again.
I've taken a medicine
that smears me.
Pulling my face across
other portions of this realm,
and, laying in place,
I'm tumbling through
my pillow
into places most will
never know.
The 2-hour cycle
of politics on the radio
just furthers
my loop
deeper into the
innerspace
I would rather not
explore now.
i
can dance
like
i'm not white
i
can dance
like
no one
else is there
even when
every one i love
is sweating
around me
i
can move
in ways
that please
you
and me
i
can hold
you closer
and closer
until
we no
longer care
how the
sweat beads on
both
our foreheads
pooling in
the smalls
of our backs
evaporating
not quite
fast enough
::Catatonia::
I've done it again.
I've taken a medicine
that smears me.
Pulling my face across
other portions of this realm,
and, laying in place,
I'm tumbling through
my pillow
into places most will
never know.
The 2-hour cycle
of politics on the radio
just furthers
my loop
deeper into the
innerspace
I would rather not
explore now.
It is so hard to not
jump out instead of
being involved in some art,
waiting to be found.
It's hard to be the
exchange between
man and metal,
alone so long,
then hearing
someone break chains
where they blended.
Like skin developed
in the air, I had to
be extracted
and be torn
rather than tear.
The hardest part is always
breaking back
into the same
Houdini.
::Stuck::
There is the point where anything can
become molten,
but, like asking fairies for favors,
certain people cling to
their shrinking shrifts
like rafts,
like a bone getting caught in
their throats,
it isn't rude to cough,
after all, our life is at risk,
but there is so much
we refuse to release,
our choke becoming like that
of pâté ducks,
our repeated meals
ground and fed
direct into our center,
where we have more to give
than what we take,
and everything becomes
like melting ice
on shelves of paper.
There is the point where anything can
become molten,
but, like asking fairies for favors,
certain people cling to
their shrinking shrifts
like rafts,
like a bone getting caught in
their throats,
it isn't rude to cough,
after all, our life is at risk,
but there is so much
we refuse to release,
our choke becoming like that
of pâté ducks,
our repeated meals
ground and fed
direct into our center,
where we have more to give
than what we take,
and everything becomes
like melting ice
on shelves of paper.
::حجب الجمال:: (Withholding Beauty)
Here, I was bent
while walking
looking around about the
cobbled patio.
I pushed my fingers out
and ran them
along mortar,
along mosses,
sucking in the beginning
of the morning's dew,
and you stopped
standing back,
hands trying to open
now to hold
me up, so I
have no chance
of falling
again.
::غير قابل للقياس الجمال:: (Immeasurable Beauty)
A grain of sand
landed in my eye today.
I teared up not as reflex,
but for the pure joy
of feeling.
Again,
here I tread for purchase
on foreign soil.
::لم يكتمل الجمال المستمر:: (Uncompleted Beauty Continuing)
I am sweating over a tagine,
the turmeric and anise contrasting
the crisp fire of the woodstove.
I made coffee and looked out the window
to frosted trees and silence.
A Stellar's Jay comes to the railing,
squawking his impatient songs,
throat casting moonstones onto
my morning employ.
I think about the bitch of a time
the Forest Service must have
climbing these roads.
But the view.
The view.
The orchards.
The meadows.
The fences falling into
charming disrepair.
A country, bathed in light,
unfolding, away from it all,
with no bells and no markets,
no passports
and live snakes,
Sabrina raising a beer,
the fibres of woodlands,
the explosion of spelunking,
the glory
and the glamours,
the comfort of granite,
the crib of some unknown Nativity.
The push of hip to hip
that took years to occur.
Here, I was bent
while walking
looking around about the
cobbled patio.
I pushed my fingers out
and ran them
along mortar,
along mosses,
sucking in the beginning
of the morning's dew,
and you stopped
standing back,
hands trying to open
now to hold
me up, so I
have no chance
of falling
again.
::غير قابل للقياس الجمال:: (Immeasurable Beauty)
A grain of sand
landed in my eye today.
I teared up not as reflex,
but for the pure joy
of feeling.
Again,
here I tread for purchase
on foreign soil.
::لم يكتمل الجمال المستمر:: (Uncompleted Beauty Continuing)
I am sweating over a tagine,
the turmeric and anise contrasting
the crisp fire of the woodstove.
I made coffee and looked out the window
to frosted trees and silence.
A Stellar's Jay comes to the railing,
squawking his impatient songs,
throat casting moonstones onto
my morning employ.
I think about the bitch of a time
the Forest Service must have
climbing these roads.
But the view.
The view.
The orchards.
The meadows.
The fences falling into
charming disrepair.
A country, bathed in light,
unfolding, away from it all,
with no bells and no markets,
no passports
and live snakes,
Sabrina raising a beer,
the fibres of woodlands,
the explosion of spelunking,
the glory
and the glamours,
the comfort of granite,
the crib of some unknown Nativity.
The push of hip to hip
that took years to occur.
