 |
| 'Night in a Small Town', 2007 Joel-Peter Witkin © |
she smoked like a fiend
loved to run
saddle less
in the moonlight ...
she had so many eyes
made me look away
so I did
when I played for her
anything she said
she wanted to sing
for me ...
one of her eyes was
made of skinny shiny knives
in the center of her forehead
I was already smitten
bitten unsteadily falling ...
she stood before me
recalling each
of my names
in the languages
of crows
and canter
rhythms ...
she rooted for Baba Yaga
her kitty stole tongues
and when my turn
with my hands free to serve need
I quickly became hair
a head set
bookshelf artifice
decoration
stashed away
symphonic poem
tones secrets
eye shadows
shows
shoes
boxes ...
she loved being inside each
of our tucked ribbon magic
she called us her flicker light torch bearers
we'd wade awhile bared
we might recite
every cat's cradle
of every thought
ever thought
to be known
and yet
there she'd be
wet scratching
new-thought-maps
onto every lover's skin
like we were her own
personal Lascaux caves
and the truth was
we were
already ...
she already knew
we would follow each clue
to find w her e ...
so most of us
play the notes
like stones skipped
over still lakes
in the disappearing rituals
of bread crumbs and exhales ...
she sang in a halo of mist and rings :
"a soul
is born
to bones
with innate
understanding
of its storied time ...
... a sense
of place
where you
were
the I
that began
to slowly be
connective tissue
gesture
articulation
certainty
music
words
asymmetric
poetry
deep inside
the notebooks
I hide ..."
EJR ©
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello there ...