sing or be silent
| the complexity of peace all I want for me | what we call lack of striving is to eat | |
|---|---|---|
| beyond that | there is a world, must be | |
| banners and fine streets children carried the smell of rich air with advice of elders move it toward the lake its changes below | shoulders lifted the delicate portage hands strong put to a stone a dark mirror we cannot see | |
| towers of solitary men polite but sorrowing what we cannot see inconstant motion | windows facing north beneath the sorrow the traverse of blood what satisfies the hidden | |
| thousands of these it gives you nothing you had hoped for what you expected but more complexity change to change wheels of birds, beggars men do not change but birds sing or are silent artists wonder this beautiful | and then the sea: not the empty roar not the likeness yourself to be water speaks to water the arousing, rising artists and brides do not become husbands beggars die brides first believe half-truth | |
| under the haycart a stray cat | I heard a cry finishing its prey | |
| what should I say? our world is this way? we are taught to sing our lowered eyes to spend blood more costly | look, love this is the song under our breath the complaint of the dead to have blood spent more weighted than gold? |
Parade by Toms Murnieks @ DeviantArt.com “Viewers smile and troops are marching on: an army parade (18th November, the day of independence of Latvia)”
dark and spark
Two lay side by side: one dreamed a moon, one dreamed a sun: when done a heaven- dance was made.
Now light was doubled; now it was snuffed; and any Thing that skipped or seemed inanimate Was that dream’s reflection:
white-washed morning into whose epiphanies the sleepers stiffly rise fog in their eyes what was that? what?
(Oh, dream with me longer if you can: for us, the domed forever’s held suspended on the stem of a single flower that you tended plucked and gently placed into my hand)
What is and has been
A few days ago, my friend from abroad suggested I might bring a poem to his gathering: a men’s circle to meet and honor his upcoming wedding. Some take any excuse (including a night before their marriage) to degrade themselves; others welcome every opportunity to become more noble, more responsible, more human.
It’s been many months since poetry has been one of my languages. If words have wings, the weather had been too cold, and their sounds had all flown south; some inattention on my part, or brusque gesture had brushed them away… So I greeted my friend’s request like spring sun: I walked through finished works and works I had partially-completed, and each one alit like another forgotten flock, and with many smiles of recognition, the trees were suddenly filled again!
the day I went away
Caetano Veloso is one of the founders of the Tropicália movement in 70s Brazil, a great songwriter, an amazing voice, a remarkable and unique spirit. This early song shares traces of the rural roots of that country, and for me at least reflects the generational and geographic distances between the small-town “campo” families and their urban and world-hungry children.
Elis Regina was the most-loved Brazilian singer prior to her death by unnatural and self-induced causes. Check out her cover of Aguas de março by Tom Jobim, available on YouTube.
Respuesta al tiempo
El día comienza con memorias dulces de la noche: hizo más melosas al recordar los toques de la mañana
Así el tiempo no és la muerta distancia entre fechas pero historias vividas momento en momento por los que conocen amor
~
“Time to Grow” by goRillA-iNK @ DeviantArt.com
An Answer to Time
The day begins with sweet night’s memories: made sweeter still remembering the morning’s caress
So time is not the dead distance between dates but stories lived moment after moment by those who learned to love
Declaração de amor
A number of years ago I prepared to leave the country for the first time. Later, I prepared again… and again. Each time I departed the shell was thinner; and each time I returned, the distance between those I loved at home and those I loved abroad was shorter. I held and was held by wonderful people of all races and all religions and all economic levels – those who were easiest to love often possessed (or were possessed by) the least material wealth.
Canción de la soledad
Casi no hay quién pasa por áqui en el sábado solitario sábado de las ausencias
cuyos ángeles, de bocas cerradas posan detrás de las ventanas del piso más cercana al cielo.
Es el sábado de tu silencio. Sin tu voz, tus palabras se manifiestan hasta en las llamadas de los pájaros
para las cuales no tengo respuesta sino aproximarme más aun a la tierra: yo no sé del lenguaje de las alas.
Earth to earth
Some of the hardest physical work in recent memory is 72 hours on the Improv dance floor.
Also, the most rewarding. I haven’t built a house, or surveyed for a map, or planted a garden. But by listening listening listening I’ve followed the sprite of movement, and on her scent traced the outline of home; through repetition memorized (in the body’s threads and cords) the navigation lines I might follow to get there; and inadvertently collected in these outstretched arms so many wild foods along the way – fruit of this adventure – that I am fed.
Choro Bandido
What was the greatest gift I received, through my years living in Brazil? Was it perspective on our own nation, and my place in it? Was it the sights and sounds and flavors of the Other, of another portion of our planet, one physically quite as large as the continental United States? Was it the friendships, the loves, my children born there (as if to two mothers), the great efforts, the greater successes, the greatness of the failures?
Rest
home is where I rest (where I rest is home) at times my house at times my town this region where the hills like waves go up and down sometimes the seas’ rhythmic dances drown desire that wants to martyr me
"This is a chair" (original orientation), by Gordon McBride @ DeviantArt.com
sometimes home’s not found so I wander round and round touching every body every room as if to ask if I might rest as if they had to pass a test as if my feet weren’t on the ground as if I couldn’t just sit down