The Hunger of Light

Times Like This
—Poems and Original Art by Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

NEEDLE

time
through
a needle
goes—

goes through dimension

of
spaceless
time—
through

nothing that is there . . .

needle
trembles
in
the hand

that tries to remain steady

while time flows . . .
what can
needle
thread

that is not there . . . ?

 Connectives

AFTER HOURS, AFTER RAIN

window shopping
looking for time
in the lit windows
of the night
our faces
in reflection
shine and compliment
our very presence
to each other
as we preen
and once again discover
our old roles of relevance
as some essential
evidence

the nights propel us
swift and slow
along night’s
simple avenue
the shops
reveal the mockery
of every want
expensively displayed
with glass between
and glass within
we stroll awhile
then disappear
around the
darker corner of the year

               
(first pub. in Poetry Now, 1999)

 The Hunger

How else am I to arrive at this place
 
and not
be changed—no matter the
map—old lie, old truth.

The forces here were lures,
attractive and needy.
One merely yields.

That is not what the plot is. No.
This is “the escape”, the thrill of
almost being caught.

The moon hung upside down
in the heavy water. We looked in
and begged to reach.

An owl laughed, and a formless shadow
pushed at our leaning.
You turned first, something

so far on your face I shuddered back.
I left you there, bent away from me,
becoming the center of a vast shimmer.

I grew cold then. Somehow torn from
something that I knew and wanted,
but not yet.

_________________

ANTEDILUVIAN
The oldest mask in the world, Neolithic, 7000 BC

through a mask darkly
because
there is no light
through eyes
unseeing
that are without memory
eyes that are bronze
with their ancientness
moon face
pitted
like leather
or maybe only clay
that has been burned
and buried
through many fires and distances
out of a black void—
a face—
the sky its only history
with rings of something unexplained
around the mouth
that seems forever set
on no,    or oh,    or wail,
without an echo now
so long ago—   so long ago—
the silence has grown shrill

 Distance
 

GAIA
After “Gaia’s Last Song”
(Bardiglio marble)
by M. J. Anderson

emerging
out of marble, unfinished
& surprised, essential, contoured
strong—catching light with every
flaw of the chisel, every shadow
perfect, solidity confirmed,
complete with heart, navel,
pubic symbol, hips braced
against marble table—
torso only—un-touching and
un-touchable, no hand-marks on
her, no head, distractive with mind-
 potential,    present-tense,    as  symbol

 

 Filter

NO FURTHER NEED

Small, tight people,
pinched inside,
hunched into selfness,
scowling in rigid pride,
shudder from mind-touch
with a drawing-in
of righteousness;
do not let us find
your sterile world
lest we blunder where
your early gardens
all have died, where
dry stalks rustle
against our greening
stare and hoard
their useless seed in
the windless atmosphere
of no further need.

                      
(first pub. in Cape Rock Q, 1967)

 An Angel

I NEED NO PRAISE 

"In a past life, I was Nostradamus.
Nothing. I mean nothing, surprises me."

(leaping silhouette of man against sea and horizon)


Oh, this is such a night. I am the dance of joy. I own
the very sky—the sleeping sea. 

I can hold the light. Everything fits my leap and
waits for me to return through gravity.

No one remembers me as I was—and as I am—
pure self, released from others. I own the moment.

The horizon is unimportant—nor the seamless sea
beneath my levitation. For this I need no praise.

____________________

Today’s LittleNip(s):

ON WANT AND NEED
—Joyce Odam

O, little woe, oh little woe—
to need you so,
I wish you’d go.

O little foe, oh little foe—
you love me so,
I cannot go.

* * *

THE DIMINISHMENT
—Joyce Odam
 
It was the hunger of light made dim by sadness,
the path muted by overwhelming shadows.
What could be done about it? Light was
essential. Windows could not reflect.
Something was wrong with
the world that life
could not
solve.

____________________

A big Tuesday thank-you to Joyce Odam for her essential poetry today, as well as her essential artwork! Our Seed of the Week has been Essentials; now our new one is Little Monsters. What do you think? Is that the coronavirus, or the snails that are eating your garden, or the kids who are home from school for WAY too long…? Send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to kathykieth@hotmail.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.

On Friday at 7:30 pm, Davis Poet Laureate James Lee Jobe will do a live (online) poetry reading at facebook.com/jamesleejobe—his third one. The first two went for about an hour and included poems from Mirabai, Kabir, Rumi, Lorca, Pos Moua, and others. James will spend some time each poem and give some observations and his own interpretations. Also, poetry videos going back for years are up at youtube.com/jamesleejobe, and his blog for others’ poems exists at yolocountypoems.blogspot.com. People can email poems to James for his blog at jamesleejobe@gmail.com/.

Deborah Fruchey, Editor of Strictly East, the monthly newsletter which announces East Bay Area poetry events, has published a handy list of submissions opportunities this month at www.strictlyeast.org/. Click on “Submission Calls” at the top.

____________________

—Medusa

Celebrate, However You Can!

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