one word palm: shift
wilternwilting our dreams
into the night
I would not ask
for the daggers
the simplicity of
release I felt
the cold
in your night
this was
the rest we measured
the rest
we failed to take
I was near joy
you were near me
the asking
was not
favored, flavored
by myrrh
our fallen treasure
cast in night's pall,
bleakness castaway
castles dreamt darkly
wisdom lost fearfully
seven times
the matter
the cherubim of failure
i will not follow
twas green we left
blue we filled
black we labored
quietest night
civil
the twilight's exhaust
to be
to see
walk that line
fear that sensitivity
you will have
the voice
the mother's voice
you'll know the water
the depth of the well
we will pass
the darkest ways
consecrating loss
as the gods
their yearning.
Labels: passing
posted by murat11 at 3:39 PM
11 Comments:
Flaming spirals and sparking words!
Aloha, Teresa's Friend
Comfort Spiral
Really haunting, but quite beautiful. I love the picture, but I'm not sure what it is.
Cloudia: Thank you for dropping by. I've been quick-reading some musicians' bios, all of which involve some periods of significant loss and bewilderment: this poem felt as if it were channeling a lot of that.
Teresa: In the video of Teddy Pendergrass performing "Joy" live, he's at the Wiltern Theatre in L.A. The photo is of an architectural feature at the Wiltern.
It is a really cool detail! And it fits with your words. Nice work.
bleakness castaway
castles dreamt darkly
wisdom lost fearfully
seven times
the matter
the cherubim of failure
those lines - I want to curl up around them and get warm.
Dee: Strange bedfellows: lots of Teddy- and Joni-sentiment mixed into these lines.
jumped to Neil Young and Castles Burning but the line "cherabim of failure" seems a story unto itself - Neil Young was/is another favorite. I completely wore out two copies of Harvest.
Dee: I surely did like "cherubim of failure" when it dropped through the roof.
Had the pleasure of seeing NY's film "Year of the Horse" in an Austin theater for my birthday years ago: I was the only one in the theater, but this was in the days when that chain had instituted a pre-movie "greeter" who'd come out and welcome the audience: this usher walked out and welcomed me to my private screening of the film. Loud. And good.
I really like the way all of this, the yearning, drops into "the depth of the well," tossed by one who knows that depth.
San: I liked this whole thing when it dropped through: I was in search of, for the moment anyway, a deeper well.
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