birthing

birthing

an inadvertent glance
 flickers across the window glass
each time   an eye surprise
of golden maple leaves
where formerly    a mass of green
 danced to the wind’s exhalations

gravity exerts its philosophy:
all fall down
joyously executed
carpets   of scarlet   of gold
beneath the bared trees
turn to crackling brown
on the way back to dirt

irregular pearls of morning cloud
blush  baby pink
against baby blue sky
 a season’s birth  hatching
 hen’s tooth of winter’s elliptic
 breaking through
scatters the fragments of summer’s shell

things are forever falling

misplace

misplace

gliding sliding crawling falling
 in the scurrying   along
 in the perpetual haze
through day and night
  and night again
leafing through pages in a book
shuffling through the fallen leaves
where trees lean and fall
when the soil is over soddened
by a continuous rain falling through
all the coolish spring and summer
 spring waiting until late August
 to make her appearance
  a quick bit part  on stage for a week
  then off again behind the scrim
a set piece of the allegory  temporal progress
misplaced

I carried on    despite the displacement
knowing that the seasons will
right themselves eventually
and because
there is no other choice
as I myself  here in the winter of my time
exhibit summer

down to the brass tacks of bloggery

down to the brass tacks of bloggery

time to get thinking in elusive
 cyber-print again
I’ve been away  way beyond
  long enough

my renaissance stirred
by some thoughts on Story Tellin’
by a well loved near son
and the stat sighting of . . .

well you know who you are
(a lover of story tellin’ in all its womanifestations:
  alas I miss your particular brand of different same. . .)

Now is the stage upon which are played
 then   and when

as you can well imagine   I do  have stories
 happenings from the interval between the blogdeath
 at journalspace and herenow

I have tended to my story tellin’
almost as well as I have been tending my knitting
tended   in the sense that I have
accrued stories  in this silent time
and I will  dole them out
here in my theatre of memory
each of the numberless rooms  rich in objects
 each numberless object  gilded with numberless memories
and beneath the theatre
 the subterraneous Underworld where all the memories
   to be forgotten   are kept
for having an impeccable memory
  depends upon knowing   what to forget
  and forgetting it
and as  even the forgotten need to be stored
there is always an Underworld of the Theatre 

without  candle or lamp  the way one sees the objects here
 is with the hands  though I prefer to come
with some small light as well - a djinna inhabited lamp -
 because it wouldn’t do to tear the tapestries spun
strung   woven  and hung
by the cosmic spinners    of fate
through  the efforts of their spider kin
 lots of forgottens cached in those webs

so find a wild space  to sit
  or recline  your precious self
and soon as you’re cozy

I’ll begin_________ 

mending glass

mending glass

how then to meditate upon the
 shattered figments
how too   to mediate between
 each shard   picking and plucking
 from the broken  selecting and
   making our way back to the whole
for it’s through the looking glass
 and down the rabbit hole
and nowhere else   that certain
 magicks can be found

 time now  to shatter the glass
  veiling the clock face
in one instant freeing the seconds
 just as  from the hourglass
 we freed imprisoned sand
 to create  desert
 dunes   the beach
the airborne gritsmother of reefs

time now to shatter the mercurial glass
 home of the double who knows true
   left from right
in her fall she multiplies into
 a thousand and onefold   smaller selves
 grinning at my one-of-a-piece

before the fire
 smoke etched in parables
the hazy pretext of reality clouds
 the world within  without
  the plume  of flame becoming smoke
  writes the text of night

tending my knitting

the beginning of lace linen curtains

pasiphae’s song

Pasiphae’s song

certain magics move us to the quick
a gestured expression  rooted in desire
burns through the haze of gentility
and we aspire  to slough all civilized restraints
 to assume the bindings of this wild place
where nectar brewed inside the cave
so sweet   the risk   the sting
of sacrificial pain  is gladly taken as
  price of wanton bliss

tied to the horns
 of the moon
 of the womb
 of the bull
the dilemma we straddle
 reaching for honey
 risking the toxic prick

dark cavern of the mind
home to   visions shadowcast  by flare
the nectar’d sweetness   the light bearing wax
where desire hibernates in fissured cracks
waiting for the wakening heat
a nest of newborn wants
writhes to be heeded

let reason  the subduer
 submit to passion
 contraptioned in the dark
freeing the fire  it can neither comprend
  nor tame
to be expressed
 in the sacred tongue of profaned love
 by which we are bound together
 in our arts

considering Dionysos

considering Dionysos
        ~~~the god that comes

bringer of ecstasy
I will play upon  your pipe
 the wild reedy melody
 of rapture

leaving reason to the city streets
 flensed by logic’s lye
we bed down  in this glade
 upon the moss  beneath the trees

I will be laced by leaf   and breeze
  and collared  by a wreath of  scented vine

and though the day is fair
there will be rains   exchanged
  between us

this moment put to  collaborative
 arts and gestures   erasing time
a flourish of fingerprints upon the spine
a sustained wag of the tongue
 between unsealed lips

I sing my glorianas
 in the untamed language of
  living heat
now at the pace of the snail
  laying her iridescent track
  along your body
 now lightning  jolting  you
  to electric quick
back to the meteoric flash  across the zodiac
making the rounds  constellation by constellation

forces of nature   in our palms
and we command springs to swell
  and well from the caverns beneath
we traverse thermal couplings
 link by link  through every species
undoing progress  countermanding restraint
excessive in our breech  of
 civilized conduct  teetering on the lip
  of fertile chaos

mid the clashes and slams of collison
 molecules break and atoms scatter
in distant aftermath  to regather
into  new constructs
 of satyr and nymph
as we finger the stops
blow hot breath  across the open holes
at play and playing  this sacred melody
upon the pipe  again and
again 

dryadica

dryadica

the thoughts thinking me
 throw a feint:
a simple letter “i”
 a bone   upon which
 they embroider with
  a multitude of fancy stitch
until it glistens and gleams as an “I”

the thinking thoughts
dangle  a fly on the chameleon’s
  unfurled tongue
 disbelief suspended
anything might happen
 among the words to come
making us up as they pour forth
from t’wixt our open lips
from finger dances  across the board

thinking “tree”
  the word as much a part of Tree
as root and trunk
 and fractaling branches  and  me
  the thought fall of leaves
 and needles
fruit  heavy on the boughs
setting my ubiquitous omnipresent I
high in the crown   I caw  I trill  I warble
from beneath   in the shadow of foliage
I coo   I whip poor will
in winter  as wind
I make rough love
as vine  I twine
pressing my embrace  I climb
as snow  I blanket
the fallen seed
as lightning  as age
I strike it down

fallen amongst the seedlings
shape shifting into fungus  and moss
I begin again to grow into arboreal song

certain fascinations with dark parts

certain fascinations with dark parts

kiss and tell time   breaking
 through the barricades
  of skin and sin
now comes the revolution
stalking the streets   making appearance
in alleys and dead ends
she’s dressed for battle
in time tattered  gauze
  and lace
this is her power  her weapon
 the sheath  where blades are
  laid to  febrile rest   in peace

each and every abyss
  the dark parts of the withins
framed by lips

time was   they headed for the
cave  the open mouth of darkness
on hands and knees  crawling   wriggling in/
  to darkness   into the deep interior
into an extension of  the vocal register  into
  vision   the primal dance  giving birth
to the sweep of carbon black  and ochre
 hand   maiden to the seen
grinder of pigment

come to me,  sweet beast
against the storm outside
against the dangers
 of hunger
 of  being eaten
and yet

watch your step

many the entrances
  and entries
  into the underworld
home below  as above
to fathomed joys  and
unfathomable griefs
of crystalline ‘tites   ‘mites
and towering columns
that would glitter up
  the perpetual night
  save for the absence
  of  see bearing light

beneath my hair    my scalp
beneath my scalp   my skull
and within   this chalice filled
 the fretworked  understream
 of spirit  the woven eddies and swirls
 the unseen fire
lighting   warming
animating  what comes to light
as the dark parted woman within

rain brought and wrought

rain brought and wrought

I am sloshing through  these
 rain riven days
 listening  to the melodies
 of spatter  drip  pelt
 the thunder rumble  and crack
 the dusky whisper of the trees

there is great beauty is all this
  mist   the cascade of water
  outside my window
  created by the steep slope
  of the roof above
  the drubbing sound that pounds
  on this lower down  porch roof
    I am tempted
       to raise the window
       and venture out      likewise
       to be drubbed and pounded
       and cleansed
 for I have been sullied by . . . 

but wait

my fingers grow mute
  because  spleen and bile
  are not my forte
tempered as I am
toward the deep sweet
  heat of life
garbed  vested  veiled
in various frill and fancy
 of desire
the needs and wanton wants
pursued in pause and flicker
between rain drops
between sun motes
caught in the thick of
 grass and dew
a rainbow bed in bloom

I have been summoned
 saved   yet again  by the grace
of saplings beneath their mothers
 or  far flung from their beginnings
love made as much from earth
as from the sun  rooted deep
between the deeds of worms
 mycelia and rhizomes
as by rain and light