NaPoWriMo - day fourteen

so much speaking

words of life are

words of life

out of your mouth

both blessing and curse

the wounds you intend

and the sweet wound

the ornament of words

promises woven into a cloak

the whisper of memory

the cold hand of regret

the hot flush of shame

soft kiss of forgiveness

the war of attrition

eyes wide open

the subtle gesture

the faint whiff of grace

the sharpened tongue

the intimidating roar

the gift of flowers

a gift of song

you already know the words:

speak to the mountain

Residence at C______ by Lisa Robertson - NPM14

Give me hackneyed words because
they are good. Brocade me the whole body
of terrestrial air. Say spongy ground
with its soft weeds. Say self because it can.
Say arts of happiness. Say you have died.
Say sequin because the word just
appeared. Say weather take this adult
from its box. Memorize being sequined
to something, water. Everything you forget
inserts love into the silent money.
Memorize huge things of girders greased. Say
the water parting about the particular
animal. Say what happens to the face
as it gala tints my simple cut
vicious this afternoon the beautiful
light on the cash is human to guzzle
with -- go away wild feelings, there you go
as the robin as the songsparrow go
the system shines with uninterrupted
light. It's petal caked. Leaves shoot up. Each
leaf's runnel. Far into the night a
sweetness. Marvelous. Spectacular. Brilliant.
Clouded towards the south. It translates
Lucretius. Say cup of your heart rush
sluice is yellow sluice Kate Moss is Rousseau
have my arms. Say impasto of
atmosphere for her fur. Halo open
her face. Misplace the death. All the truth
under the tree has two pinky oozy
names. Say trying to possess or not. Say
if you thought love was ironical. If
pleasure emancipates, why aren't you some-
where. Sincerity.

Robertson, Lisa. "Residence at C________" Open Field: 30 Contemporary Canadian Poets. Queyras, Sina, ed. New York: Persea Books, 2005. 194-5.

NaPoWriMo - day thirteen

patience

suffering is exhausting.

it is like a wall

where prayers are folded

and hidden in the cracks.

when prayers are wounds

they are rarely forgotten.

when wounds are answered

they might become promises.

when answers are seeds

you may yet feed the nations.

when seeds take root

it is only a matter of time.

Poems by Hugh Seidman - NPM13

And the dream poem, which all poems envy and connive to become.
And the naked poem, lacking underwear, thrusting hard abs.
And the great poem, stitched from husks, from high-pitched wings.
And the pure poem—the diamond lyric—that is, the absent text.
And the project poem, booting its laptop, blogging out its heart.
And the prize poem, fleshy with ego, stinking of zoos and sex.
And the prayer poem, hooked addict, still stuttering God.
And the avant poem, bloody samurai, never again so red.
And the failed poem, like many, cursing Mother and Father.
And the love poem, loading its bullet lipstick, detonating its Buddha.
And the famed poem, smug as hope, outrunning skulls.
And the conceptual poem—ideal purge—Mutt's soiled urinal.
And the forgotten poem, set free at last, guffawing at its luck.
Is that all?—but for the rasping, breathless, newborn caterwaul?
And the anonymous poem, signed under torture, blinded like Justice.

http://www.hughseidman.com/

NaPoWriMo - day twelve

trust

so much anger beneath the surface, and not beneath it. so much

subterfuge. you just keep digging in and digging down.

don't keep pretending. don’t. be honest about your fear.

instead, you just keep pushing. so sure. so afraid. so against.

i have something to give you - a charm to protect you.

will you wear it? will it find a home around your neck?

next to your heart? in your pocket?

or will it be hidden away in a box

on the top shelf of your closet or under your bed?

we all need someone we can trust, who will hold us

in prayer, in remembrances, in the palm of their hand.

recognize this thought will elicit laughter. recognize this

will give rise to mocking. perhaps even anger.

there is a king on a mountain.

there are expectations. the failure to be plain

shall incur his wrath. speak to the lies you have gathered up.

declare to those who would enchain you

i will not be chained.

the king would like you to be their son, or their daughter.

there are nations waiting for you. there’s a throne with your name on it.

so be wise. you may yet be a king. so rejoice.

greet those you love with a holy kiss.

keep anger and judgement far from you.

there is so little asked. and so much.