This collection of poetry rests within an electric silence that came stirring after salt was poured on fire and grace appeared only later.
Purchase your copy of Salt at Blurb.com
Poemes :: 2012
so the king died
so the king died & was brought to kala & they buried him there
they washed the chariot at a pool in kala
(where the prostitutes bathed) and the dogs licked up his blood
king
yellow burnt life : silence
no beginning of days
no mother : no father
no end of days
red :: ash
echo
i must lie down where
all the stairs begin
and then the truth has its play
lamb and lion pursue my thoughts
intellect judges the deep selfishness of my body's drug
while waking the echos of my imagination
dogs
the wounds divided into the night
the bloody floor : table : bed: a bitter end
king is dead : an unstatisfied throat of pride
dogs recognized the musical scent of blood
death takes what man keeps
prostitutes
an empty stain beside the pool
where lamb and woman climb into paper forgotten oaths
whispers from soldiers : feathers : brothers / forgotten
the pool : the moon : the birds
no banners for her / no bribe
a.
she bent her body to shape dust and dirt
and her air of immortality
blossomed into a kingdom
a copy of clay and power
the prostitutes made their demands
spade the dirty hand
some confused others took the lead
b.
the king's ghost / lightening laughed
she sang of lust and rage
unbegotten to the new dead age
c.
their souls constituted
a freedom of dried frangrances
a language beaten into their shiva moons
sing me a song : break stones / battle one
(Please play audio + write your hopes on a scroll. Place the scroll into an envelope : go to the sea : barefoot : walk to the mouth : placing your scroll into her wave : smell her scent / remembering what it's like to cry tears) x:w
Notes:
Shiva : in Judaism, Shiva is a ritual meaning
seven days of mourning for the dead.
On day seven, Shiva ends in the morning::
Inspired:
Biblical scroll: First Kings / a murder
Sound:
Camille Yarbrough
Little Sally The Super Sex Star
Iron Pot Cooker
Visual:
Found image
Fable : Money is good, and a girl might be better
Fable : Money is good, and a girl might be better
a young man in the dark am i
things hid in their marrow-bones
from time long passed, their bodies lay.
daybreak and a candle-end
all men live in suffering
you make me real
i know as few can
fluid
dense
whether they take the upper road
or stay content with the low
you say everything in advance
you spoil the end
fall in love with your children
our abuse, you disclose our fall
you were wrong not to hold your tongue
betrayed
intentions
you spit your nothing into the shadows
you proclaim color,
you can not hide the strings,
the high tower of fear, climbed by noise and clamor
or whisper that man is a fool.
a man had six mortal wounds
violent and famous, walked among the dead
she looked through the tree branches,
she thread the needle and made an ancient rule.
she was driven from home, and left to die in fear
they sang, but did not have human tones
though all was done in common as before
they had changed their ancestors and had the throats of birds.
he thought ::
all i ever wanted was a touch of everything
i sought for it in vain
i sought for it for seven days and seven hours
he loved her in secret
enslaved, they layed under the color :: casual flesh
she stopped him, round, covered and fought the
wisdom of memory and found herself never looking very far.
written at home
inspired by the music of icebird
(i'm green :: 2011 abandoned lullaby)
(i'm green :: 2011 abandoned lullaby)
and poetry of William B. Yeats (1936-39)
Filled up and Tested
One: play richie havens : listen & find the rain within yourself. if there is no water or no moon then continue on and on and on
Filled up and Tested
One: play richie havens : listen & find the rain within yourself. if there is no water or no moon then continue on and on and on
two: after listening :: begin to read the poeme to someone else while eating something sweet & drinking something sweeter :: sit with them & ask them to close their eyes :: while filling the air with incense : let us begin
F / illed up
Take my hand
It’s all I have to give
My hand
If you give me my heart back
She left him standing there
Picked up her black bag
Thinking :: she was willing to give her right hand for her heart
Such a noble act she thought, since she was left handed
She was left, with two working hands, but no heart
Her right hand seemed useless, tired
It did nothing while she wrote poemes for him
Her right hand sat at the end of her limb, doing nothing while she fed herself
It seemed useless in a fight, since all she had left were scars where her love once laid
He had hair that curled, coiled, and seemed to follow a spiral violent row of cacao
His hair did not blow in the wind like others, it could not – it protested and it was steadfast
This man had her heart, what did he want to do with it
Place it in a glass case, red and sore
Beating no more, love only a ceremony said once
If he did not want her, then why worship this piece, the machine kept quietly in her soul
The only thing that kept time without instruction
But would endure love, she thought was it’s only function
He did not answer her, he took the one thing that belonged to her on a summer’s day
Rainy and planted his hands into her plenty to take her sound of a seagull morning
He walked away with time in his hand, gathering her minutes with every single step
Her world stopped, time stood still while they were apart
But he had no idea the crime that he committed
Was the taking of a young girl’s heart
That is why she thought her right hand would suffice
Since her heart was lying there in a stranger’s hand
Whom never even thought of her twice.
Three: (and tested)
so the nose is quaint
a small asymmetrical shape / all of it
you’re face is hidden beyond the helmet
but we recognize you nonetheless
she had hidden her hand
the entire trip, when we got onto the train, she hid it
eyebrows were so shaped like frida that she looked sad all by herself
you turned away
i went north
put hand in the pocket /
i could not find you, east /
before i loose you / south
her hand was made of something : dirty plastic : still : dry
unwet : sure of it’s shape : the train doors open her false hand
west
one complete square
must remember how it felt when you comb my hair
goldfish did not make it
feel again / put hand in the pocket
went in one complete square for you
laughing with her / legs and arms held out / head and neck not wanting to be still
Notes: Written over the span of 2010 -2012
