The sky, filling with blue, then a fragile cloud or
two, threading. A sharpness of birdsong, penetrating
the silence—brief—and from no distance other than
where it was a startled moment back. Then, that slow,
soft tone of whiteness that takes the place of early
blue, the way you slowly surrender the owned moment
to the swift intrusion of sounds and urgencies, your
reluctance to rise from the warm bed—seductive with
comfort—warm around you. The sky again—gone flat
outside your window-measure, full of daylight now,
the clouds, losing their pink direction, taking on the
heavy factory gray that smudges them.
You stretch and sigh. You look at the clock.
STARTING IN THE MIDDLE
Writing in parenthesis, (thinking in parenthesis)
to think twice in two ways,
rounding the second meanings from the first.
And so it flows, (the talk between talk)
the innuendos that do research
(against the mind)
that interrupt and have their say.
and say (like this)
all there is to say.
(like fingers to a map)
We almost rhyme. It’s in the warning.
The grope through sound with effort,
(even meaning) to communicate and explain.
when little furtive rhymes keep interrupting.
Like butting in line,
(one item only)
The book so long, can’t begin at beginning,
open book at random, read that page
(for guidance) through the book.
How well I know the muse now
old hide-&-seek game
efforts to make,
then, obedient to her,
trying to catch
all those words she flashes through the mind
Hey, now the siren . . .
hey now, coming for us . . .
coming through the far-away streets,
pushing dog-howl ahead of it . . .
the fog . . .
it is sure of its destination,
knows its job.
NOW IS THE TIME FOR YOUR MUSIC
After Young Spanish Woman with Guitar by Renoir
I would ever yearn to hear it
you have been chronicled in art
for me to decipher,
sure of your smoldering style,
of your concentration—
oblivious of me,
your hands at work.
And I am only your poor listener
for what I would hear :
wild flamenco from your guitar.
NEVER AS NOW
What’s never is now. What’s the use
of hiding it? It will out, as in will in.
Heavy with doubt, we reassess.
Excuses—ever what we use.
Why confuse this
Fact is an act.
Act. 1. Done.
with that and drink slowly.
In a hurry, she asks?
Here is only here.
Elsewhere is nowhere.
Here is here.
Spinning. A gold child in the center of
her spin. Look. She is happy. She can spin.
and now there will be nothing to say
too easily the parting moves away from the holding
the long journey away from goodbye,
so easily the tender sorrow after sorrow
torn now into aftermath—
a long word apart,
just the last connection of eyes
so full of what they want from each other—
what they need,
the quick kiss on the cheek and the waving goodbye
“That the science of cartography is limited”
Now let there be, let there be,
a falling of words, following the mind-path,
which is blind, with only pre-knowledge of going
into the far interior of the soul-magic,
which is old and new, and not ever known,
but known only by an intuitive knowing.
Let the words be harmonious with troubled mind,
with seeking mind, with lonely mind—ever
following the mind’s impulse, which is blind.
Let the scripture of the heart forego its worries,
trust in the language of life, that is particulate
with mood and query. Everything is known at
the core and will be reluctant to let go its power.
Every evil has a companion, hovering and advising,
echoing the dark streets of luminous desire,
stroking the thoughts that ache from confusion,
and caressing the dreams beneath sleep.
And here is paper
ready to be poem
tucked between the pages
of this poetry book.
A big new-year thank-you to Joyce Odam for her starting-fresh poems and lively artwork! Our new Seed of the Week is Alleycats. Send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to email@example.com. No deadline on SOWs, though, and for a peek at our past ones, click on “Calliope’s Closet”, the link at the top of this column, for plenty of others to choose from.
Insert New Year’s resolutions here:
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.