the silence means something new (landays)

the silence means something new each day

my hand on the big paper going round and around

my face at the window looking out

we wait at different corners for the same autobus

sanity can be found like spring snow

cold, unexpected, strangely beautiful, till it hurts

sanity can be counted, counted

in every head, in every body, beating the time

there is so much noise until it stops

there is so much life in the counting out of the pulse

minutes to midnight, hours to dawn

days till release, decades until we have learned it all

counting the scars, telling the blessings

shouting them aloud in all God’s languages at once

Comments

My own lone self (ghazal)

I wanted a minute’s breath to quiet my hectic own self I wanted the voices held away from my frenzy-prone self I thought, let me close my eyes and hold my face in my hands Just like that I was in a world apart with my unknown self It was meant to be only a moment, to still my jangled thoughts But I stayed there, unhooked, unplugged, with my dreamzone self I’m a little girl. I’m a gawky teen. I’m a weird aging woman I’m a dancing fool sitting stone still alone with my own grown self Just me and the quiet. Just me held safe in my own cool hands A circle of peace around this jangly shaky-bone self The magic is usually deep in the snaking threads that keep us webbed Tonight I cut them all to spend time with my sole lone self I’m a silent rebellion, a party of one, my face in my strong cool hands A prayer of my own in this alien world, hauling home my far-flown self

I keep coming across the same stranger

I keep coming across the same stranger, and she wants me to dream in the same color green. To beat the rugs to precision, hanging as they do in patterned formation, Persian, Southwest, Chinese, deep red, oh the ocher repeating, what do we see? I keep coming across the same stranger, and she creaks with the knees she has danced on forever out of my sight. I keep throwing my elbows up and out and swigging the potbellied Koolaid, this is a childhood I won’t escape, this is a dance I won’t remember. I keep letting go of the same things, eyelid by eyelid, there isn’t an end to this riddle, it isn’t sweet but it tastes like it, there isn’t anything left at the end. I keep letting go of the same things and my hands ache from opening, from being empty. I keep letting go of the same things and in the distance the worldbeat mows and scrapes, drills and races. I keep coming across the same stranger, and she whispers in someone else’s ear but it echoes in mine. She dances in someone else’s bo...

Hay(na)ku sonnets

April 10 Napowrimo prompt: Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is another one from the archives, first suggested to us by long-time Na/GloPoWriMo participant Vince Gotera. It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem. For example, you could write a hay(na)ku sonnet, like the one that Vince himself wrote back during NaPoWriMo 2012! So, some hay(na)ku sonnets: Silverware Drawer Spoons plain forks the rattly knife Curves simple sans-serifs all size spoons We emptied out all the extras I washed out the metal tray Now it’s perfect Spacious silverware drawer *** Coronaworld Problems First ...

All is burnt. We rebuild.

Search This Blog