Saturday, May 24, 2014

The White of Heart Smoke

Guitar Demon
—Poems and Photos by D.R. Wagner, Locke

‪   ‬
‪   There's a stink on the hands of the blood boys.‬
‪   Nothing to be proud of, Jack.  They'll give you‬
‪   Two hands full of heartbreak with nothing in the middle.‬
‪   ‬
‪   They will come to kill you just to see what your face‬
‪   Looks like when you die.  Their footprints are all over‬
‪   The place like rats in a dusty room.  That's what they‬
‪   Think you are pal, a dusty room. ‬
‪   ‬
‪   Is there anyplace‬
‪   We can be safe for a little while?  I have this terrible‬
‪   Need to hold you close to me without thinking of anything‬
‪   But how pure a thing can be. ‬
‪   ‬
‪   I can hear something‬
‪   Crying in the other room.  It isn't human.  It does not know‬
‪   Anything but blood and the noise of war, men standing there,‬
‪   Killing one another as if all this were a play by Shakespeare.‬
‪   ‬
‪   I'll go get the children together.  There is still a good chance‬
‪   We can make it to the edge of the forest before their awful‬
‪   Idea of God starts up its engine and starts burning everything. ‬  

Snake Head

‪   ‬
‪   The moon looked as if it had carved‬
‪   A place for itself in the night's eye,‬
‪   An aching yellow-blue, it nearly‬
‪   Sighed across the sky.‬
‪   ‬
‪   We had gone down to the creek.‬
‪   On nights like these the fish‬
‪   Would pick up the bits of moonlight‬
‪   That reached them and swallow it.‬
‪   Their bodies glowed with the light‬
‪   That poured through them.‬
‪   ‬
‪   The season found a reflected moon‬
‪   In the water and shafts of moonlight‬
‪   Rippled upon the spot‬
‪   And made magic on the night.‬
‪   ‬
‪   And I am neighbor to this spot.‬
‪   A light as clear as this,‬
‪   I tell myself, and think‬
‪   Of your face as you sleep,‬
‪   Angels in your skin.‬
‪   The stuff of dreams that calls‬
‪   Heaven down into your body.‬
‪   ‬
‪   And the night is Queen‬
‪   Anne's Lace and the whisper‬
‪   Song of great things that never‬
‪   Had a home on this sad earth,‬
‪   But spoke the angel language‬
‪   Silence articulates for us.‬
‪   ‬
‪   This is a holy place. ‬
‪   We are a holy place. ‬
‪   For all things must die‬
‪   And are holy because of this.‬
‪   The fish swim in circles of moonlight.‬
‪   Ah, there is no death at all.‬

 Chard 2

‪   ‬
‪   In the morning, she visited me in a dream.‬
‪   I could feel her take my hand.‬
‪   I was fevered and could not recall‬
‪   What she was wearing, but it was her.‬
‪   ‬
‪   There was something essential and immortal‬
‪   In what she was telling me.  A story I believe.‬
‪   She brought bread.  I ate of it and could feel‬
‪   My bones begin to dissolve.  There were wolves‬
‪   Circling around my bed.  She was playing a theorbo‬.
‪   ‬
‪   So this is where it will come to pass.‬
‪   I will grow old here, knowing the streets;‬
‪   I will forget her face.  I will be looking at the sea.‬
‪   The mirrors will collect their sparkling tales.‬
‪   My company in the evening will be ‬
‪   Unspeakable.‬
‪   ‬
‪   This blue that surrounds her is one I do not recognize.‬
‪   The song she sings is about a secret way of knowing.‬
‪   I think I had a sword but somehow it didn't matter.‬
‪   Whomever is writing this moves it out of his memory.‬
‪   There is an astonishment that I am able to recall this event.‬
‪   ‬
‪   She becomes very white and begins to burn paper.‬
‪   The present is singular.  It is memory that sets up time.‬
‪   You will be well.  Dream on.  Who is speaking?‬
‪   I become able to see continental drift.‬


‪   ‬
‪   When the lights go out‬
‪   I'm still waiting where the grass‬
‪   Has turned to glass and the petals‬
‪   Of the snow flowers are so different‬
‪   From my world that I cannot‬
‪   Recognize the night.  I am above‬
‪   This darkness.‬
‪   ‬
‪   Her body is so warm.‬
‪   She touches me so perfectly‬
‪   I become the room‬
‪   The angels inhabit.  Ah, still‬
‪   They come.  Your eyes, your lips,‬
‪   My hands, a magic manifest‬
‪   In that which is blessed,‬
‪   In that which dwells in wonder.‬
‪   Oh my love.  I am the tree‬
‪   And the branch and the leaves‬
‪   And the sun upon the leaves.‬
‪   ‬
‪   I trek my way out of the muck‬,
‪   Exclaiming that the waters I touch‬
‪   Are full of serpents and the comrades‬
‪   Death enjoys his ugly games with.‬
‪   The lions too rise from the mud,‬
‪   Red and fierce and tearing‬
‪   At our flesh as if war and violence‬
‪   Were the only language spoken here.‬
‪   ‬
‪   The ancient islands rise up,‬
‪   Lift me up and I can see‬
‪   You once again.  Oh let them‬
‪   Not come near this holy place‬
‪   We walk. ‬
‪   ‬
‪   This is a radiant‬
‪   Glory for such a small moment.‬
‪   Do not let the threat‬
‪   Of their foul words‬
‪   Find us home.‬
‪   Let us live upon the earth.‬
‪   Such could be this kiss,‬
‪   This flame, this pleasure.‬

 Chard 1

‪   ‬
‪   Spinning up and down tubes,‬
‪   Following the flying silver traveller,‬
‪   The twisted roving, so newly yarn,‬
‪   Will be plied and creeled,‬
‪   Pulled through the combs and heddles‬
‪   And just past the shuttle, become the treasure.‬
‪   ‬
‪   Starlight too is woven into the sky.‬
‪   The cloth of heaven spun with‬
‪   The cosmic dust that are our bones‬
‪   And the fabric body binds our souls‬
‪   To this universe of dancing carbon‬
‪   Beings and cotillions of chemical‬
‪   Extravagance, a drop of water‬
‪   In the corner of an eye.‬
‪   ‬
‪   We array ourselves in cloth‬
‪   Upon cloth.  We too are looms.‬
‪   Our ethereal thoughts‬
‪   Carded, spinning, winding, unwinding‬
‪   Weaving all the textures of our breath.‬

 The Leaning Man

‪                    for Lisa‬
‪   ‬
‪   A ring on a pool of bright water.‬
‪   Make it tremble upon the air.‬
‪   Tell me the sky is your singing,‬
‪   I swear that I'll be there.‬
‪   ‬
‪   This is the home to home.‬
‪   This is the spirit uncoiled.‬
‪   This is the endless heart and face.‬
‪   This is the golden child.‬
‪   ‬
‪   And for a bullet we may have come,‬
‪   But we forget it all‬
‪   And I would want no other's touch‬—
‪   Not angels' silk, no one at all.‬
‪   ‬
‪   But bring me the white of heart smoke‬
‪   And the red teeth of the fire‬
‪   For I have known the love you give‬
‪   And I shall know no other.‬


Today's LittleNips:

Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall.

—Ray Bradbury



 Joe's Dog