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Tag Archives: poetry
woman horizontal | the sound of him
he wakes whistling, thrilled by the zipping wind
he conjures and reshapes into sharps and flats
snaps a crisp unpatterned rhythm
with supple-skinned thumb and middle finger
(wiped dry between refrains)
flickering his wrist for triumphant emphasis
mutters a play-by-play commentary
to an imagined audience of rapt gamers
punctuated with shrieks, chides, wails and groans
jigs an exuberant popiscle-sugared dance
wagging his pineapple-cherry coated tongue
shuffling feet,
flexing knees,
scuttling erratically to a giggle-inflected beat
oh! mustn’t leave out the slapping bum finale and encore
drills up and down 14 stairs,
thunderous heel-stomping laps
and cushioned drop-and-rolls,
parkouring over and around the furniture
a streak of joy unleashed
bumps and bangs precede whimpers and squealed tears
beckoning empathetic triage,
strokes of comfort and mild caution to remember,
in all this play, that his body is growing and does not yet know
the new dimensions marking where it ends and external objects begin
hides, hushed and stockstill in a closet
awkwardly wedged behind the vacuum and laundry basket
clamping back unruly titters, lodged between throat and strained cheeks
crackling with anticipation to jumpscare an absent parent now returned
tucks into the curve of torso reserved
for bedtime storytelling and goodnight prayer songs
mommy-kissed lids and curled lashes
shelter sleep-craved eyes,
burning from the effort to see through
one minute more of the darkening day
a puff of minted air,
humming ‘love you too’
before sliding into blessed dreams
woman horizontal | unburdening
y’all finished or y’all done?
his guttery trill, gum-soled and sticky with wizened contempt
is instantly corroded by the viral ozone of tropospheric memes
earwormed into polyphonic cackles
relentlessly pursuing you — tubing through folded gray matter —
until the voice of God, remixed as a call for intercession,
beseeches:
is you finished or is you done?
you pitch a prayer for completion
petition mightily for all ordained wonders to be finished
from spark generated to diligence sustained
make a way out of no way,
leaving behind tattered limp-tired tropes
overused and out-of-season ideas
scratch-deep grooves committed to sameness, repeating the repeats
a good and proper farewell to stuck and fused people
prolapsed yet yanked back by histories tangled and cursed
But [then] the Lord says,
“Forget the things that happened in the past.
Do not keep on thinking about them.
I am about to do something new.
It is beginning to happen even now.
Don’t you see it coming?
I am going to make a way for you to go through the desert.
I will make streams of water in the dry and empty land.”*
in the etheric gap you become unapologetically i and make…
a (re)formation
fueled on and centered by love, the emboldened claim to lift up:
what i value
what i wish to protect
what i wish to lead with
this way ’round, loudly and assuredly
a discerning heart supple-strong, free, open and clear
*Isaiah 43:18-19 NIVR
woman horizontal | how naked the heart
how naked the heart
when anointed for communion
transparent as skeleton leaf
veins quaking sepia-tinged curiosity
flexed impulse relaxing between Whys and Whats and Who Do Yous
where it embraces all and becomes tethered by the long gaze,
unwavering and tender
held there, ambient love soaks through gossamer-laced capillaries
and this aesthete,
quickening with meaty delight,
is transmuted into a vaporous contagion
oxgenated, metabolized,
pumped outward then upward,
to be inhaled anew
now sipped in and seeping
stripping bare the armor
to the raw once more
infecting it with the blood wet
murmuring of the proud and unafraid
woman horizontal | exhuming the empath
inspired by the indigenous navajo creatix spiderwoman, woman horizontal is a close-to-the-heart project that has held different shapes over many years. still an emerging work-in-process, below is one piece from my “pilgrimage of verse, image, and sound.”
in sanctuary, in pulp woven + pressed then printed, i found her waiting for me
she sang me in to the fourth world,
skimming the spiraling thread
between timeless times, liminal horizons, + the veils of imagined realities
cradled to her heart, stretched out + spun, belly up
laid to rest upon a loamy bed of earth
i see
i hear
i smell
i taste
i touch
i know
no beginning to nature, no end to me
the boggy creak of a frog camouflaging its bilge water song
that scampering chitter of black squirrels and petite chipmunks scaling trees fallen + splintered
a trio of lithe deer silently lunching in the marsh
flickering tails catch my eye
fawny brown smattering against thickets of green
damsel flies + redwing blackbirds
fluttering things, buzzing beings
alighting, pausing, taking flight toward perches high and low
cumulonimbus clouds thick as riverbanks
yield to an estuary of marbled blue sky wending through the atmosphere
a waking dream
a revelation of the universe within
i am absorbed,
arms fold me in and in
to the womb-depths of fertile soil
(six feet, a mere starting point an underdwelling to pause before the long journey back)
deeper still
to seed, to cell, to atom, to spark, to notion, to curiosity
i am at rest
stretched out + spun, belly up
surrendering to legacy
inheriting death
the completion
a void, vacuum, vanishing point
a vortex of matter
(before) reanimating
no end to me, no beginning to nature
knowtouchtastesmellhearsee
curiosity begats notion begats spark begats atom begats cell begats seed
a bare kernel
rising layer by layer
upward trailing through horizons of bedrock, clay, silt, sand, soil, humus
musky with the life scent of burrowing things, many-legged crawl-creeping things
clawing and boring tunnels around and through
a littering of decay and dis(re)membered things
exoskeletons, crushed stone, deep-buried hollowed bones of those forgotten things
digging up, up, up toward surface
exhumed by faith-magic and love
for us + spirit
under a dark moon
we gave ourselves the gifts of Time and Space
— an immersion in the experience of self
from the nothingness arose storm and shadow
with steadied hearts and swords unsheathed
we eased forward
pulled away the veil of disappointments,
longing, fear and peered into sorrow
until pinholes of hope pricked tears from our eyes
on the other side of this pilgrimage
into being and unknowing
a
soundless
luminous
expanse
we broke free
❤ to my sis-in-spirit
{through her eyes: moon.flower.medicine.}
touching the earth: spring revival
whipping wind,
conductor and choreographer.
snow-bleached leaves lifted from the composting bed
into a swirling tornado ballet.
brittle and brown — some cracked with lacy veins of decomposition, some waxy-smooth and preserved.
all, frenzied and alive.
reanimated to dance upon the whistling breeze.
toward wholeness: “song of myself”| walt whitman
Song of Myself
[select verses]
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me
as good belongs to you.
Clear and sweet is my soul,
and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me,
and of any (wo)man* hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile,
and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
I am satisfied—I see, dance, laugh, sing;
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound
I exist as I am, that is enough
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
~Walt Whitman
Song Of Myself (full poem)
*[punctation ( ) mine]
Let us celebrate ourselves,
and sing ourselves
We are large,
We contain multitudes.
heart, sweetened with intention
toward which direction is your heart stretching?
know that this organic force, opening and guiding your heart, is the seed of intention
what are you breathing life into?
know fully that the breath is the fuel growing into aspirations.
connect with and align your thoughts, words and deeds with the seeds of intention blossoming in your heart.
nourish and energize your hopes and visions with the compassionate wisdom of breath.
each inhale grants space for each blossom to stretch out and unfold.
each exhale invites those roots to merge with every fiber of your being.
with such loving awareness, tend to your heart.
bathe it in the sweet, steady flow of breath.
as the petals of intention bloom, they will stretch open your hands, heart and mind.
every breath, thought, word and deed becomes a flower,
saturated with the fragrance of clear intention.
your aspirations — a beautiful thousand-petaled lotus.
tscottmiller 