Poem28

...and possible 28, 29, 30. Was all productive this morning. (When I plan to go the gym, is this my brain's way of thwarting me? This compulsion to actually write poems for the first time in a while...) Let's see what happens tomorrow, eh?

The Marriage of Figaro—Overture

 

 

So bounding in the slippage

& the abyss trap door, tripping

makes the rise so so

makes the fall so so

O sigh, O try

 

this dance yr arms

my arms

swing wide

 

O joy

 

& bang this buzz into

 

O light in the window

 

is what it means to sing

then crash from each lash

lashing onto wings onto singing each fringe forages our legs waging war against the floors

 

against the floors

stepping forward

toward this light wick

 

bounding again, rising, rising

 

the fringe, the war, the floors lashing the feet the light to our bodies in such urgent sprawl that we feel only the moving feel only the lightning in the darkest winter like starnight inviting unites

Clarinet Concerto—I. Allegro

 

 

O sway in and drip

this lilting lilting

so too repeating and

 

felt into this quick tip

of ink trills that tendrils whispers

 

sew happiness in the wind & field

this fielding hill so sweep

the day sweep sky sweep

away like happy having

 

warm

 

O sing! O love!

 

how the morning lifts sun

if luck

 

or storm the world the room with water

flooding out each stinking

weather clement

 

time in fever—

swells

 

down into a low note

 

so slow

for pause

to remember

soft

 

like fingers in ears

on cheeks

the smear

of passing

 

and the lift of arms the lift of eyes the upwards momen of each single dripping bit of life that corners into each river swell

 

to push, to cure & push, in such a fast

 

sew the spinning world to a new day

Requiem in D Minor—Introitus: Requiem Aeternam

 

 

Enter opaque march in deep

 

burning—heats the heather

 

with seeding red.

 

 

Until her heart is in the room

singing pastoral.

 

 

What leaving feels. What leaving leaves

 

her heart sonorous—

 

 

A fire that baritones

a kindling of larynx.

 

 

And the pulse is biblical.

 

 

And we spin the dream, weave it

a ladder heavenward, saying "please—

 

 

And they keep their eyes

like their voices

in the chords.

 

O god—

they say.

 

O lord—