Thursday, December 06, 2007

[hands contrary]

rocks the color of blue sky
old stones in the waystream
dream into black

an altar of hands
contrary the call
of ardent hearts

100 hands have given

1000 hands have taken away
green arms
at the precipice
in verdant care
the loss of
mortality & breath

conjure paradise:
call the end of ages
call the sixth & seventh voice
dawn to the Mother's breast
in the garden of harrowing labor
on the grounds of our whispering deaths.

(chasing octavio paz)

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Blogger San said...

Love the opening line, then the transition into dreaming into black.

"Altar of hands": beautiful!!!

100 given, 1000 taken away: great take on the biblical. Lush and sorrowful.

"conjure paradise": Yes, why not?

Is this a translation of Senor Paz, or in the manner?

9:03 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Matter of survival. My little urchin hives are all in the throes of play- and story-writing. In the old daze (last year), I could give a writing assignment and write along with them. What a luxury. This year's urchins are some kinda wonderful, but many of them require creative consults with the Mighty Brainstorm. It's fun, some HILARIOUS ideas, but...

Yesterday, I tried to force a quick story and it was absolute mush. I never delete writing: I deleted that polenta, yessireebob.

Faux translation of Paz, we calls it. Random bit of Paz pulled out, you "translate" what the words suggest phonetically (as if they were English words), and after a bit of that, a poem just starts breaking through the surface. A good jump-starting exercise, I'm sure you've done this.

Glad you like the first line; it was actually the line I liked least, though I love the idea of blue stones: it just seemed too simple, straightforward for my usual surreal dementia. "Rocks" is a weird word; maybe rock would have been better, but I needed to "tip" over into something, maybe a weaker portal is what I needed.

Thanks for the words.

12:15 PM  

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