Tag Archives: Poem

Summertime in the Orion Nebula

// I was trying to make it look like there were stars at my feet.
Something in the way that I walked.
But I’m not perfect.
Are you?
Probably not.
But then there’s that dryad look in your eye.

I started out saying Hell no, but the letters got tangled despite myself.
That wasn’t one of the knots I learned last week.
Bowline on a Bight —
I’ve learned to be pleased with my calloused hands, but I’ve held so much.
And this mess in my stomach seems to twist and tighten, having been there in the first place.
Shoot.

Bulletproof vest?
Useless when the weapon changes.
The redwoods stand tall like a quiver of arrows, piercing clean through my cage.
When the trees woke up to dance with the wind —
There, wordless sounds whispered my real name.
The song rushed around in the branches, calling me to breathe in.

So I stood in a wild stillness.
Watched the full moon rage quietly in its mercury reflection on the black sea water —
Shining on new faces, new phases.
And then the constellations become clearest on the darkest nights.
Dear God.
You’ve piqued my curiosity. //


Elliptical Cave

I saw the sun and now I see
This is a cave
These are the images on the wall
Shadows to shadows 
This is a cave, is this 
A cage
As well

I saw the sun and now I see
This is a veil
These hands ache to tear 
Shred to shred
This is a veil, may this
Be ringing 
My ears are bleeding
As well

For:
I saw the sun and now I see
This beauty and hope 
Shrink away and fade
Shiver to shiver
These finely cut things, such 
Sharp glass to grasp
In my hands 
Again
Ever?

I saw the sun and now I scream
At the top of 
These lungs blue with ice
Shallows to shallows 
At the top of, where I freeze
And so 
Not audible
As well

I saw the sun and now I see
This is Who am I 
These are the Chorus
Shouting to shouting
This is Who am I, to deserve
Their voices for me as I
Wish 
I could sing
As well 

 


קֹדֶשׁ Qodesh, an exploratory definition of the Sacred

vulnerable    uninvited    unaware    surprised    unprepared    strange
it was a moment, brief –
briefly –
impact.
a second, split second
a saintly time    a split sanctification
one moment of awareness
; this one time
once I saw everything    you came uninvited    you surprised me
I remember this    where I see everything
listening?
hear    heard    I heard you    I can hear you
found    you found me
for once not afraid    not afraid
(and) strangely calm    calm    it was so peaceful
my answer
your answer
my answer, your answer
Eben ha-`ezer
a shooting star    (out of) those calm stars
distinct    how distinct
apparent    appearance
apparent, appearance
secret bridge    secret garden    secret waterfall
time left    time dispersed
dwelled    I dwelled    we dwelled
safely exposed
beneath it all
only you and I know     only we know
escape    escaped    I escaped    we escaped
, our defense
my shelter    quickly, shelter    brief shelter
in this place
the only moment we were alone    a moment of silence    for once silence
take a breath    when I breathed    I could breathe    I can breathe
we were breathing    we breathed    one breath
inhale    inhale, exhale //
this moment    that one moment
when we were alone    a breath alone    my lungs work
: I am oxygen    I am air
I am the rush    (I am) the flood
flooding    everything flooding
— you see?
I see everything, I see nothing    I hear everything, I hear nothing
I feel everything, I feel nothing
(for) I am timeless


We are Capable of Cancer

Embrace:
Needles against my skin.
I’ll never be silk again.
Hurricanes and explosions, that is how you pump.
I can’t hear my heart, can you feel my chaos?
Can you feel, my chaos?
The -
Blood transfusion is soiled.
And your beat is a black plague.
She asked, Can you stitch me up, darling?
I can’t hear my heart.
Can you stitch me up?
Sutures sunder wide, he severs
Beneath this sound, the
Plague.

***a collaboration with my friend and fellow writer Jace Darcangelo, influenced by Dr. Glancy’s Advanced Creative Writing class and The Chariot (of course)


Change

When I worked for my father at his office,
I noticed his shorthand for “Change” was a triangle. 
“△ Michelle’s salary to __”

When you brought me a necklace made of leather string
Tied through a single sliver of deer antler
with a triangle cut out in the center–

I knew there would be no northern lights
Or flowers for me to hang from the ceiling–
Your shorthand by drill bit was clear.  


…the Remaining Engagement with φιλια (cont.)

Chapter II. ευδαιμονια

And I speak of this φιλια, that is my sacrament. What I hope to become, to engage, to embrace; inextricably We. Not only regard, but hold out my hands aware with faithfulness, empathy. Keeper of virtue so that between You and I comes We. That I would speak, write letters out of my head, call out of my shell, and make my bed there under the sky. Doors wide, arms unfolded, ears open. So we shall sit in hours of bright, in hours of dark; in watery eyes, in full, in empty. Carrying our bones. Together, in stasis, in motion; to Pass That, whatever it is. To reject Reciprocity, aim for such καλοσ. This is true Justice, my δικη. And so maybe I can speak of this φιλια, my sacrament. And perhaps I can speak of this φιλια, my ευδαιμονια.

 

ευδαιμονιαThe flourishing life
καλοσ–Pleasing beauty
δικη–Justice


…the Remaining Engagement with φιλια (cont.)

iv. A Third Interlude

But Samuel told me a story, of two brothers whose souls were knit together.* And Jonathan loved him as his own soul, he said. Dear Jonathan, the way your David tore his clothes at the news,** remembering when he last saw you, and your last words to him; before he ran for his life, remember? And wept with one another, David weeping the most. Then he said to David, “Go in peace, because we have sworn both of us in the name of the Lord, saying, ‘The Lord shall be between me and you, and between my offspring and your offspring, forever.’***  Samuel finished, sat back in his chair, a bit distant now. How extraordinary, he said, eyes misting over.

 

*1 Samuel 18:1
** 2 Samuel 1:26
***1 Samuel 20:41-42


An Engagement with φιλια: Part C

A Catalogue of Things Regarded Important
for the 
Remaining Engagement with φιλια

Chapter I. Sacrament

I speak of this φιλια, that is my sacrament. A pursuit. But maybe I should speak, that my throat is often weary. That there are letters I’ve never sent, unstamped, written in my head. This I know, that I am born, but still I wonder Who am I when I am in my shell and the crust is thick. When what goes on inside of me is not always the same as what I do. This, my confession: utility and pleasure, they seduce me. This surrounded by a shell of lip-licking self absorption, and the crust is thick. My pride negates the iron bar I’ve driven through my neck, compounded by the effort that I constantly regret. My eyes focus nearsighted. Yet with moments of clarity, I beseech my eyes to see. This I know, that I am born, and hope to break my shell. To love my partners in crime, my wolf brothers, my glowing sisters. Mea culpa, dear ones. If you still want to love me, it won’t come without a cost; the fight to be much better is a fight I’ve often lost.* 

 


Mea culpa–“through my fault”
*Showbread, “The Prison Comes Undone”


An Engagement with φιλια: Part B

The Unfolding Present Engagement with φιλια

We band together and they determine to become my new family. My full circle of restoration. Barely acquainted, yet I am surrounded by smiling arms. The wise Owl speaks over us, People are more important than stuff, dammit. Eyes kind, hands so strong. We take a night trip to the lake and bare our bodies to the element. The water stark as trust, but the view of stars matchless, aiming at the heart. He could have sent the blow, the fierce wind to beat against my ramparts; instead, gentle sunlight allowed, and so my tears are shed to the sky. Trust, tell me now that I have engaged your soul. We talk about God. Getting lost together never so reassuring. It seems I am remembered. It seems I am born. When we kayak out onto the lake, the water invites, we speak to one another, and we race back to shore, cabin lights like planets fixed in the trees. Our forest home, we share together, and so I fall asleep next to you, wake up next to you. Single beds, empty rooms a fading lonely memory. We take up learning, becoming holy together with dirt smeared on our faces. Engage συνηθωςWe give each other seats at the table, intertwine our nerves, reuniting ourselves when the day is done. Family is not a biological term. We commune, we eat bread and slowly become unveiled. Trust, I tell you, I am scared, I tell you, but I want to be known. Share my gaze, share my aches, share my mirth uninhibited. Our holy hymn, massaging sore wings, breathing in our scents, as we step to each other’s beats. Peace following me to sleep. And when I howl at the moon tonight, you all will join me, and the twilight world will ring with our dissonance and harmony complete.

 

 

συνηθως–A word to describe the bond of those who have walked trails together


The History of an Engagement with φιλια (cont.)

Chapter V. (cont.)

And near the end, Hector my brother as well. You wolverine Jack Black, dark angel with a wingspan of heavens. We built ourselves on concrete, the fashion of electric guitars. You would tell me with a grin to stay, find a place, and consume, because you are ξενία. Sharing forks, burritos. And you are not afraid, not afraid of love, my brother. We slung broken chairs around on the asphalt, between the trees, and made it our wild night. Consolation for losing your Andromache. And you found me a sweatshirt, walked me home. Our communication, a wild peace, beckoning each other with howls vibrating in our throats. You told me my voice was golden, and I smiled again. My world tends to explode when I see you. Truthfully that is how things are, we take up shields and charge the trees, together wolf brother and wolf sister.

 

ξενία–“hospitality”


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