The Mundane, Sublime and Fantastical: 165 New Poems (36-40)

36.

2014-08-02 20.25.13

On the other side of Saturday

she is shiny with desire

Today, not so much

 

Desire for what?

A clean house?

Well-behaved children?

A successful practice?

An unwavering hand at her back?

 

Saturdays leave much to be desired:

Breakfast in bed for a tired woman

One day in the year, two, three — a bouquet of flowers

Weloveyouweloveyouweloveyouwedo

A lopsided smile

A sensuous pinch

 

Ah, bwana. Lakini wewe?

Let us not arouse the dead

 

37.

2014-08-04 15.47.32

Distinctions:

1. Your loveliness — for this there is no struggle

2. Your location on the east gate.  No one is coming to acknowledge your presence

3. The relationship between a stiff breeze and a full skirt

4. There is nothing else

 

38.

2014-08-04 16.58.39

Grace Lee Boggs on the period of transition:

“I’m very conscious of that sense of time. How long will I live? How long should I live?  I’m very conscious of what time it is on the clock of the world.  As I have grown older, I think in terms of centuries, whereas eight or nine years ago, I was only talking about decades.”

It’s almost morning on the clock of the world

The chandelier in the living room used to swing on its own, remember?

A pale sky

A tired night

 

It’s almost morning on the clock of the world

The earth itches and convulses

The chandelier swings wildly

I’m remembering the first sign that the cold season was over: earthworms wriggle out

I’m remembering the first sign that the cold season will never be over: Grace Lee Boggs is gone

 

39.

2014-08-02 20.54.12

This is only an idea:

— That the spell is complete and no one has to believe it, least of all you

— That the narrative matters

— That banners spell doom

— And friendship isn’t blood.  Glue and horses are related by foot

 

This is only an idea:

— That some encounters are nothing more than the evidence of of humour from an old ghost

— That there is a frenetic energy to this story

— A fragile end and a distant close

 

This is an idea:

That this is in fact a story that we cannot poke with a finger.  We live in the shadows of castles and castles of clouds

On occasion, we look up and say: look! the rain is coming

 

40.

2014-08-03 11.18.32

 

I’m yearning to speak to you in a language in which blow means kuti

I want to speak to you of a breath that we can climb onto

A breath like a single note

A breath in which I’m holding on to you

Holding on to you on a note that time will not control

 

It’s on the breath out, isn’t it?

Kuti

It’s on the breath out, right?

 

Let’s climb back on to that note

Let’s try

Music is nothing without you

 

 

 

Advertisements