Dinner with Phoenix and Aphrodite

My son (6) asked: “where do people go when they die?” I explained that no one really knows, but that people have different theories – sometimes based on which religion they believe in, and whether or not they believe in God. He quickly maintained that he does not believe in God, which he’s mentioned before. So, I asked him what he believes in.  He replied: “I believe in you. I believe in love. I believe in the goddesses.”

 

The mother of love says go on give it open up

The crown heart thrush rises – to overlook precipice

Take aim, glowing out light embers

Cicatrix phosphenes in the fire radial

 

Belly was the boulder belly the chasm

Upright stone slab – a storm of grey wanting

She lifts, fragments:

 

Membrane wing,

two breath,                         flesh devour

 

Spiny,                                     comb bearer,                                                 little ring

 

Ungulates

 

Love says: look and I am you.

Hereditament

I.

In the garden

 

I water                        I watch

 

The lace-winged labor of play

The animals loll and swat at plants

 

Fur rubs the sidewalk

Camouflaged skins burrow inside

Fur lines the flesh light

 

II.

In the gnawing chew             of sidewalk hum

I played street games

 

The sun a vector                                     I hid in the cool dark

 

Aimed cue ball at bruised knuckles

My father taught me

 

How to hurt

How to be pennies

 

III.

On the fire escape             I grew like a dandelion

Greedy for pigeon talk and flowered skirts

 

I wanted to be a garden

So I doused myself with hosewater

 

Painted my arms with thorns

In the wandering dusk

 

How to be a fortress

Tenement of my red mouth

 

How to be quiet

Dig under the belly

Lift the stone slab

 

(from a writing prompt by Elizabeth Treadwell and anthologized in “Hereditament”: http://secretmint.blogspot.com/2013/04/hereditament-flash-anthology-no-2.html)

Gloria (for Elizabeth Treadwell)

To you in the highest
Comestible sunset
A celestial body outlaw
Close enough to dump material
on that other star

Mad math of the prism
Mother of light
Helios – mouth of the annelid
Of invertebrate starts
Maw of the under beyond
Pineal subways, circulatory systems, sudden moon phases
Pumping vessels flowering ganglia

Gloria, fair
Gloria, olive
Gloria, midnight
Ejecting plasma

(anthologized in Elizabeth’s flash anthology: http://secretmint.blogspot.com/2013/04/gloria-flash-anthology-no-1.html)

Light: NaPoWriMo Day Ten

When light sticks inside bodies

The viscous imaginary

A protective sheath, a plastic coating, a waterfall

 

Orbital schema – an awkward grinding

Grey over buoyant grey, a rainbow scrape

 

When light sticks inside bodies

Bug jelly maths

Porifera make new hydras

Give Zeus the finger

A parthenogenetic hum

stuns the ocean floor

 

Leaves shoot duodenal refuse

A vein of cellular debris

But, to chop it –

A clutch of pearls through the stained glass

A pawing at the branches

 

When light is a family of bones

When light deviates

to hear birds and insects in conversation: napowrimo day nine

Common, common, uncommon

Distinguished from other wrens

Distinguished from the loon

 

The daily biology of the yield

Grey matter on a micro slide

Rub hind legs against

 

Females of a few species produce soft noises

Both pairs of wings sometimes small or absent

Note the inconspicuous jerking of its long tail

 

The song higher

Feeding mainly on bright buffy underparts

Feeding mainly with bright scolding rattles

 

Wings stalked at base

Washed off abdomen

Spend an ocean attached

 

The carapace of haunt

A sound-producing apparatus

Restless, resemble, raptorial hind feet

Archery of a heart plucked back – its steel reverb, Listen.

 

NaPoWriMo Day Eight

I.

There is a fur in making

Scratches markings on its dorsal side

Spins irregular – is disorderly – chances

 

II.

Danger: Keep arms and legs inside

Covers abdomen, swallows pill, depresses tongue

A mother rat after the maternal heart

 

III.

Torn from its parietal (parent)

Sponges and other invertebrates

Stand motionless with pedipalps raised

NaPoWriMo Day Seven

The thin connective tissue a wedding song

Outside, an organism –

Gregarious leaping from branches

            A dull musical hum

 

            All coordinates marry distance

Measure hostility of an old heart

Slowly – a meat snap

 

Asymmetrical

A stitched wedding dress

The heart now feathers for plucking