No words today. Not mine.
Only this plea, for protection
of the heart and spirit,
will, and strength
of Grace, that her
voice be lifted as
a torch through
this long dark.
It is time.
For Grace
May she be heard.
Blog
Into Next
With winged hero.
Hello, messenger. You are no good at flying but faithful in your attempts.
Pranked again by your devices, you can’t resist the dime store crown, the glitter-wrapped wand to go with it, even as it leaves you short one palm to break the fall. What resistance you have, you spend against gravity.
A study in wreckage, your devotion. There you go again to the height of the last wall in the next fallen fortress, to meet the updraft, that it may lift you backward into the hour at your open hand.
Last Still Life
With human.
Hover, ghost of
half animals
and clock plants,
leave these with
me, still with this
thirst, doubting,
still of unknown
orbs packed in
fiber of distress.
Still ugly. All
nervous unrest
promising to the last:
death, I will sleight
your hand first.
Hope Memo
Long view from well bottom.
Reminder: you will not be always in this gnawing gut at the center of your terror, and you will laugh again, and love someone who smiles back at you still. Even as you look away now, afraid to push your luck when it comes to what may be saved, you are raised to take less than anyone’s idea of deserving and that face tastes like the last memory you need. To hold that gaze from this deep a vantage for finding still this little light. A want to yell, Go, and keep them in it.
Not Yet Trained
In walking.
It may be the last step,
the bud of you forgetting
to open.
Will you
suggest it by your
form, enduring
this our dark.
Creature
what are you bringing?
as much bird as light
but show me kneeling
how it weeps
the bell of you
over us.
In the Making
Guardian forms.
Here is your origin: flame
crossing over sky, you
curve from here, from
two lines meeting
at an acute angle
to whisper wings
from these shapes,
nothing but
your parts.
***
Inspired by Paul Klee’s angels.
Appearance
Records and their keeping.
Consider the active
witness holding
the imprint
of time’s face
on a cloth
at her breast,
her name still
unwritten.
Situation
Field notes from margins.
Beautiful day. Outside gathering.
A child laughs above you.
A hostile force appears. A toast
offered.
You know the threat when you
hear it. Time to flee again.
But there is a precious item.
You’ve left it inside.
So now you are here, looking.
Looking for it.
Parts and Paintings
Language of forms.
I wanted a language, the artist told us, that felt consistent.
Let me show you, the artist offered. The bodies.
And there they were. Body as image, a cipher to be doubled, dismembered, cradled, lifted, evaded––each exceeding the limits of its own banks, overflowing.
What do you call this one? We asked the artist.
Unfinished, the artist told us. That is why we are here, still looking.
***
Inspired by the work of Salman Toor.
Devices
Analogical selection.
Here is a picture.
Consider it a useful imaginative tool
which, like the hammer,
helps less
when applied to
the wrong situation.