Poems

This Inspiration

I.

Yes I read what Orestes said
Having climbed the Tower
Out of the family curse.
Looking beyond us
He turned to his beckoning sister Electra,
Delivered his message of inspiration:
“I have seen the dreams of the people and not dreamed them.”

II.

The thunderstorm between my ears
Inside the café on Laurel St.,
Ripping cracks,
Bolts of division—sonorous voices
Fearing only human things;
Afraid of losing what cannot be possessed—
Sight blinded inward.

A clumsy child, escaped and wild from
Mother,
Trips over his own shoe laces,
Too much excitement for composure.
Too much pleasure,
His body pulling towards me,
He pushes hard into the back of the chair in which I am sunk.
Savior palms fail and he’s flat on his face.
Lesson learned whimpering in the arms of Mother
After the fall: need love.

Ashes, ashes . . . ”
Girls sing it happily
Skipping rope together outside
And it’s in my ears when
Sodden in meditation,
Dark in the mind,
The lightning snap of the impact
Startles me.
Dark in the mind,
I didn’t see him coming,
And in the force and shock of this moment
Out of my mouth comes the coffee
And it carries to the table in front of me,
By the window,
Some woman instantly
Shooting up from her chair,
Uprooted from her private reality
With arms like flailing tendrils working backwards in slow motion
Made laughable
By the awkwardness of the body’s response
To an anarchical
Revelation of the mind;
Arms flailing in her sprouting body’s answer to some surprise.

Her hand,
Now a crooked claw,
Scraping at and pulling down blinds in the window sill
While trying to avoid the mess unexpected,
Unveils thick rays of beaming sunshine.
Here they come,
They flood into this room and
F
A
L
L,
They flood my face.
My storm over,
I walk out the door
Loving many things, severally,
Leaving the people
Inside
For light.

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