November 2, 2015

an underworld red eye angel pilgrimage...

'Dance of Death' illustration
from the Nuremberg Chronicle
by Hartmann Schedel (1440-1514)






an underworld red eye angel pilgrimage 

(a poem born from thoughts of Zeus discussing making 
bread and deals with Monty Hall on an overnight flight 
into fancy)


'tis winnowing November 
calendar womb new demon
and I am want 
to be near 
the death 
of a soul 
searching for bones
in a pocket full 
of rye and coins...

I jangle and scurry 
hurried thoughts 
to stay meandered 
so that I may spend myself 
in connected breaths 
lattice mad with a zeal 
for being undone...

dear ms fantasy 
I am cleaning up 
after the physics 
of self gratification 
fondly fondled 
a found me sated 
weighted with words 
and herds of melancholy 
taking joyful turns 
playing minor chords 
while traveling in the clouds...

with tides and rain 
explaining ways poem 
homes in on what heart is 
skeletal remains await 
crucible discoveries  
in slow embraced decay... 

so here where humanity says 
the ways we display intentions 
are the bent shuns and seeds
we still separate from wheat 
basket, blanket 
and cracked thin husks 
thrown into the air 
all the processes we repeat 
for ritual and name...

seated next to me 
is a baby eater 
an old king 
who keeps repeating 
his wife will make the bread 
for just a few dollars  
and a bit longer on the throne...


EJR ©

5 comments:

  1. My goodness, I love your work. What a treat it is to have access to your poems.

    These are my favorite sections:

    "I am want
    to be near
    the death
    of a soul"

    the second, third, and last stanzas

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    Replies
    1. Gratitude for saying such...this piece nearly wrote itself this morning...strong coffee, remnant what-ifs and a lean cut slag Sun of November streaming into old panes...with my fingers helping me stay clear of my brain's insistence on editing before creation... :)

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    2. "remnant what-ifs and a lean cut slag Sun of November"

      You can't not write in poetics, I presume. You're either wonderful or awful to live with/near, I'm sure. Perhaps some combination of both, as are we all.

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  2. A very astute observation...and it never ceases to amaze me that folks actually read these pieces that I am both compelled and full of desire to express...thank you so much for taking the time to comment...

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    Replies
    1. It never ceases to amaze me that other people are both compelled and full of desire to release their poetry indefinitely. You must have such confidence in yourself --- which is completely justifiable, of course.

      I'm very finicky about how I post. Almost immediately after "publishing," I'm returning poems to drafts or deleting entire blogs because I don't want people to know just how insane I am. :) Sweeping away the evidence, you know.

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