Thursday, December 14, 2017

Whistling a death song, in the house of dawn

photo by Mikael Molner

The wind is a river that borrows its name
                       from everything it touches --
                                                 it touches 
rock faces chiseled
by time,
by the elements, 
                human developments --- 
In the mirror, I draw the razor across my throat & most days, try 
only to look at the flesh left clean in its passing,
& not notice the weathering

Because I can take it.
That's what they taught us.

When they come to take your name, be Strong.
Don't let them see that it matters.
As if our defiance, made us impervious & it's not so much
busted flesh // you can only see bruises so long before they burrow

beyond witness
                          //tears are weakness,

Even rivers must respect their banks
         & the pull to find the lowest point. Fall from cliffs, & they'll come
                 from miles around to take pictures with you,
                 Roil & pool, 
                 Reflect & evaporate -- disperse themselves 
                                                                  in the ocean
                                                                         of others.

Drop a seed in a crack, and if it takes, will split the largest boulder
as it sprouts, spreads roots & a tree grows
because we take as truth
                                 whatever we let inside,

No, that's not true, because I didn't let you --
I just took what you had to plant, because what I gave you was entrance
into the sacred soil, the sum of my inheritance,
                                  the dust & earth two hands took
                                                & formed me

This too is weathering.

& some days your words still echo in the hollow, where the tree grows,
where the tree grew, where the wind came to take my name,
where my chiseled face stares back

& I put down the razor,
                     like I put down the axe long ago.

&say my name, 
               over & over until each syllable is a known shape
                           in the space between my tongue & teeth,
                           until west moves east

I don't mourn me,          

I mourn for the you,
                               we both once knew.


  1. um, something's taking root when you look in the mirror to shave, and i'd say it's acceptance. a wonderful metaphor and juxtaposition. death & dawn, feign & fawn

    1. Yeah. Exorcism doesnt always take. Sometimes you just gotta learn to live with and love beyond.

  2. I admire how you take the elements of nature, and mark them as your garden, for seeding, growing and forming our own reflections ~ Love the: sacred soil, the sum of my inheritance. Nature shapes us, but we are also shaped by these elements. Superb writing as always ~

  3. This is a wonderful metaphor, the image of the seed cracking boulders and the way the river flows. Amazing what you might consider when shaving... (the razor against your throat has such a double meaning for me)

  4. Loving beyond........I love the compassion in those words.......the lines that jumped out for me are "I mourn for the you we both once knew." I resonate with the looking in the mirror.The razor makes me nervous. I love "what I gave you was entrance into the sacred soil." Such a gift, that is. One to be treated with care.

  5. The Form
    The Essence
    this way that way
    the other
    To Feel
    To Sense
    more than less
    it'S How Cats RetUrn too.
    191 iN Dance Weeks for Norm..
    Cheers X
    FoR A
    SonG tHaT GoeS oN..:)

  6. This is beautiful in its sorrowful embrace of what is after what has been. I read it through a couple of times because I enjoyed it so much...and it made me think of so many things we experience and how it changes us. Gorgeous poem with an appealing look to the eye, too, as it flows down the page.

  7. I think there is so much more in your words than I have figured out X. I have written a comment (here) so many times and then erased it as it appears, I don't know, ?pathetic.
    I will read over and over again and hopefully return here, when I know...
    Anna :o]

  8. I feel something so deep inside of me as i read your words. I feel the wind and the river moving with the current of life. Even the river must respect it's borders, but not always sometimes it overflows onto an already wet land..and I wonder about the direction of the there is symbolism in the direction.

    I looked in the mirror this morning brushing my hair and I saw deep pools of sadness in my eyes.

    1. Merry Christmas!

      Peace, light and love always!

  9. i have goose bumps reading and re-reading this. thank you

  10. Just Dropping by to Wish you
    And your Family a Very
    Merry Christmas
    And Happy
    New Year
    of course
    to your Cats too.. X..:)

  11. Yes, Merry Christmas, Mister. We miss you already. Come back soon.

  12. They can have my name, it is of little consequence. What they can not have without a fight is my seed bag. Fuck 'em.

    You are absolutely correct -- tears are useless.

  13. Missing your words X. Hope all is well.
    Peace and Best Wishes for 2018, to you and those you love.
    Anna :o]

  14. Just lookin' for a new poem. I feel like one is gonna pop up here soon.