What Have You Got To lose?

On Two Sides
—Poetry, Photos and Artwork by Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

 

 

 

BLUE FIRE AND RED SKY    
    
As trees through blue fire sputter
and moan, their branches tangling,
their roots in a lessening hold—
grasping for blue which
may be sky or dream—
blue fire and red sky—
oh, fiery love and loss—
held together through all
destruction, what have you
got to lose but life and its memory—
wild music rushing through like wings
beating in sudden joy and madness—
balance in all its harmony and discord,
like all that music never written . . .    


(prev. pub. in Poets’ Forum Magazine, 2020)

 

 

 

Whatever It Is

 

CIRCULARITY

circle me,                                                                                                                    
en-closing, and out-closing

is the circle
confined or open
top to bottom
working
vertical
or
horizontal

Is the circle the line
or what the line encloses,
only a shape

can it be
undone by erasing part
of the line—

what spills, falling out
of circularity
of questions

                                
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen)

 

 

 

To Light The Way

 

 

FULL MOON

What deception, held like a hoop
in the arms of a playful child-woman
remembering the younger time
before grief and sorrow
took their turns.
Her ghost
obeys the mockery,
leaping in silhouette
from darkness to darkness,
the cold moon
stolen from the sky
to light the way;
what mockery
to think she can
get away with this,
the sky gone dark,
black clouds taking the place
of the stolen light—hers from
the old trickery—the spell she puts on
disbelievers forced to believe what they see.

 

 

 

Prophesy

 

THE FULL MOON HANGS SO LOW
THE DARKNESS OPENS

trees of white bend and make their motion
in the surrealistic whiteness
of their dance

old women move in memory—
their tethered forms soul-caught against
the shadowy landscape quiverings—

and they dance together—the women and
the trees—interchanging in the light
which startles them

                                                  
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 10/28/2011)

_____________________

FURTHERINGS

I steal portions of my life. Mine again. To own
myself is what I mean. I dream myself like this :

flower, soul, and death—an unwound tapestry,
unpainted—yet blank again. I ache to hold me.

I escape like a shadow—sensitive to touch—
follow a word-thief all my life, language made

of wisdom—also stolen—an alphabet I try to
memorize—iconic thoughts—I knew I could

belong—            I was my own sorrow—something
wrong with my beginning. I laid me down to

dream. What had parents to do with this—
minds apart—the “if” and “why” of everything.

 

 

 

From Time To Time

 

SLOPE
After “Slope” by Rella Lossy

I crawl and climb—climb and crawl—
all over my life, which is mine.
I stop and rest, think and rest,
measure my time,
which is mine.
I am prone,
I am vertical—
I have no horizon
line, only my climb,
which is slow—as slow
as my echo, which is mine—
as silence—my silence as inside
my echo. I am without, and between,
half up, and half fallen, which is time. 

 

 

 

 The Curving Shape of Air

 

THE SMOOTHNESS OF THE DANCE
After Lines & Spaces, mixed media by Cynthia Hurtubis

And there are myths to be gotten over,
new ones to make up.
tragedies to memorize, with their betrayals and . . .

it is a dance, never finished,
columns of light to glide between, distances
to measure, why not just let . . .

let’s take, for instance, green—a sky of it,
a wash of light—a suggestion
of birds lifting up in rainy conversations that—

‘trail’… is that the word you mean—those blotches
are barriers, they could be anything that impedes
the dance, which is the metaphor here, as if . . .

as if smears of light are to be considered,
how they relate
and the mystery of the four dark barriers . . .

gates?
brush strokes?
a reflection of yellow? like water-shimmer in . . . ?

in a square room, without windows or doors,
a dance floor, all those green shadows of movement,
other dancers with their invisible presences—

besides, there were five—five darks—
the blur hides one. You are to be forgiven—
you with your impatient eyes. Why do we always . . .

always keep these shadows for reminders—
how perfect you are in this light—how beautifully
we dance together in our different rememberings.

 

 

 

Awake Under My Sleep

 

WHEN YOUR SHIP COMES IN

How soon will the boat come for you?
You are such a small harbor;
maybe the boat will not find you.

Will it be a rowboat?
Will it have a sail?
Will it be a yacht?

You are such a poor person,
wearing mended clothes.
And you are not impatient.

All your life you wait,
bent in a looking position,
staring through the glitters
in the direction of the setting sun.

You will not see Luck coming,
until it gets dark,
and then it will be too late
to go sailing,
or rowing, or riding on a yacht.

________________________

Today’s LittleNip:

BIRDLESS SKIES
—Joyce Odam

dark
moon    
lost in
night of
missing stars,
of sky-winds
that threaten
to tear the sky
with a grittiness
of sounds that wail
and sigh until there is
nothing left but fury of
regret, everything dying
at last—heaven's last bird

_____________________

Good morning, and our thanks to Joyce Odam for patiently putting together this fine post about our Seed of the Week, Impatience. Our new Seed of the Week is “Ginger”. Wait—are we talking about the spice, or that red cat, or red hair, cookies, beer, spicy personalities…? Ginger Rogers? 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.

 

 

 

 

•••This Sat. (3/26), 4pm: Sac. Poetry Alliance features Susan Kelly-DeWitt and Albert Garcia at The Library of MusicLandria, 1219 S St., Sacramento, CA. Info: www.facebook.com/events/1036595227201761/. Host: Tim Kahl.

______________________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Ginger Snake