Flora

    photo of leaning clusters of pink begonia blossoms against an ocherous brown stone wall and a pool of water

    just begonias, today //

    and we’re hyperverse tomorrow;
    know you my lyre, my love, my lunar
    metronome displaying solar
       ]licks leaning lighter later

    //

    selamat tilem 🌑

    bone teacher

    bone teacher, her equation is the cold
    bone teacher, antarctic demon i am told
    her negative degrees, your nose will surely freeze
    and the leaves are shaking

    inflection, her judgment is frozen central
    inflection, her cold bottom is biblical
    winter is a time, winter makes you rhyme
    whether or not you want it

    i’m frostbit
    and i have blue lips
    bone teacher
    the thought of parsnips
    underground

    wanting, gnawing numbers are her worm
    wanting, a blizzard coming is her storm
    a reckoning of beef, by frost on a leaf
    or a vegan from Lesbos

    i’m frostbit
    and i want to cut her
    bone teacher
    but i think i love her
    cold-bitter

    waiting for the silence to come around
    waiting for the mountains' thundering sound
    but it’s not to do with me, and i can hardly see
    the drip of an icicle

    i’m frostbit
    shivering in the glare
    bone teacher
    does she even care
    she’s not there

    icing, when her mercies are too few
    icing, when she hides the glass from view
    heartbeat in the snow, heartbeat going slow
    and almost stopping

    i’m frostbit
    am i a grizzly bear
    bone teacher
    the question isn’t there
    it’s nothing

    stepping, her boots are laced so high
    stepping, her pointer blinds the sky
    glacial is her height, the emptiness of white
    rumors of a pop quiz

    i’m frostbit
    darkness coming on
    bone teacher
    never seen the dawn
    it’s marching

    her bones are so grim, her cold does me in
    or a pale horse riding

    //

    slow shuffling blues;
    for my hs math teacher
    Ms. Dyas <3

    //

    Junonia atlites

    to snap a ragged angel clutching stem
    the blustering breeze away with solar air
    her tissue wings flat flustered here to there
    as clinging to the budding cluster to drink

    she filled from galaxies of guava’s nectar
    so stopped, or tried to stay, a messenger
    from Juno sent, or born suffering soldier
    of flight and heat, by fiery news arrived

    by lunular and radiating “S”
    each ocellus arrayed a revised scene
    and partial pupils where crescents intervene
    to turn a crimsoning into the sky

    a pale or sight-depleted, shredded wing
    robuster than my lens could burn, ash-worn
    and torn edges, floating abandon as form
    yet stellar grip, high hunger for her name

    //

    pic

    photo of a lavender-grey barred and spotted butterfly with many tears in its wings, landed on a cluster of tiny buds, on a branch with dark green leaves spotted with white, against the blurry ground.

    meaning //

    Junonia atlites on guava

    the horse’s mouth

    teloscopically, my dear, are we botany
    born reading leaves, the pricking fear of bees
    are talking, my lisp, or rearing wobbly nature
    what place, organs and bodies, this disease

    the shying seasons blowing through us, here
    parts animal in starts, quivering vibrations
    made artifacts suspect by cities, near
    or far, the accidents survived, the prisons

    that ended us; the motes and moths in teas
    our flicks or running rivers; wicked courses
    of understanding; what catastrophes
    what phase our faces, without the faith of horses

    you have to have a horse whose feet you trust
    to warn you when a snake is in the grass
    the serpentine who wants to be unseen
    repenting for her gemstone like an asp

    for forking tongues, a talisman is key
    but wear a hat, they’re speaking from the trees
    odd shrubberies are bristling with false friends
    a firecat bristling back can help with jinn

    mosquitoes here are vectors for torpedoes, so
    herbal experiment and/or gorilla war
    sometimes there’s one snake, sometimes there are more
    at least, no kind of viral is a pearl

    a tender canter, daemonic carousel
    remembered ribbons bite in ancient ways
    we play the venom clockwise in our veins
    we shed the dead redundancy of days

    my jungle is a dreadful-clever dreaming
    with shade-grown coffee, waterfalling views
    what godly voices animate my evening
    there’s none i’d rather jungle with than yous

    let’s nicker maps, reverb the mythic blues
    i spell, where y’all are going, where you been
    switch witches laughter with the beating rain
    the crickets will out-round the macet, friend

    to live outside the law, you must be honest
    Bismillahirrohmanirrohim
    by river dark, inside a wounded dawn
    we rhyme it, we just flow to make it rheme

    //

    (Dylan, my Prophetﷺ, Cohen, Cardi B, etc)

    //

    diet

    never too much
    garlic, carrot, oat
    sleep, cake

    but gingerly
    the fungi

    //

    photo of intermingling roots of two palm trees, like interlocking fingers, with patchy textured bark, delicate green vegetation and dropped palm fruits scattered on the ground.

    radical //

    semi-nude for a photo album

    their birthday was the other night
    the girls were going out; the grift
    delayed by getting ready; gift
    of tangled, sappy rattan; caused a fright

    pan, she burned some flowers on you
    meta-burban, real dream for two
    polaroid tacky, pantries full
    of shady tatters, curtain bulls

    sister, it was no dress for winter
    but they were grown enough to drink
    something fancy from the blender
    fermented guava, lava lake

    lavender flannel, camisole
    white linen sheets, hung in the sun
    nigel and sandi, mel and sue
    genre-bender, Java won

    high horse, he has a song for you
    but i’ll save it for another tone
    her sweaty practice, overdue
    vinyasa, tapas, organ brew

    dizzy lizzy ate some rice
    eat, pray, love, the antichrist
    jihadi, mum’s worst nightmare
    Gandhi, papa’s burnt-off limb

    inter-dimensional makeout queen
    Osaka airport, caused a scene
    village gossip, words above
    she’s never catching up on love

    not quite posh, but pulp turned through
    realism, my lands, god knew
    so sliced the flippin' longitude
    bless her heart and come on in

    agrimony henbane dish
    too-schooled harpy hysterical
    raised pie of huckleberry fish
    turned river-liver radical

    there’s mantra in the air tonight
    what kue set in sangga stone
    rise with the moon, the howling dog
    the crone, her voice memorial

    white-footed goat is coming home
    to graze by fiery sunset view
    the desert camel, bringing bones
    with mother Durga, chest tattoo

    a secret pocket of soil and spice
    elaborate belty-thing, rhizomes in knots
    not big enough for where you think
    whether it is cake

    //

    (wants cake)

    //

    texas talkin blues, like this
    vernacular from full moon 5/11
    genius loci, pura dalem
    blog 2-yr anniverse & job well done

    //

    photo of thick bamboo trunks, colors of olive and old lime, standing together, and fallen husks around like scattering parchment, and a dense carpet of beige bamboo leaves surrounded by other foliage.

    consistency //

    talisman

    a cup of chamomile, my open wound
    crepuscular, flowers steeping in the dream
    her springing forth, her taste exquisite autumn
    my speculative, formidable apple

    the steam is real, the stirring consequential
    the presence of the absence of a pear
    the buds are breaking up to touch the coiling
    epiphany already of her ear

    a brewing honey storm, holding and pressing
    the amber-letting cauldron of the year
    a chalice of molten golden, in case forgotten
    a promise to be warmly drunk, and often

    //

    the emerald vine

    sayangku, this is insane! is how i called
    to show him my translation. Wondrous bending
    noetic might, this miracle of earth—
    she called the way she calls him for a viper

    and it was chrysochlorous green, zithering neon
    in day-bright, venom visible, scroll shining
    un-minding, rubbing sleep out of her eyes
    quick-silvering to sprawling pumpkin vine to hiding—

    the same, the same, the same! but every word
    turned different, and all the rest went dim
    the sirens and the hooks, made dull and distant
    slow-honeyed hum, what frenzy, vital air

    the hungry lung was spitting, stitched and thinning-through
    to this—brilliance, broad-leafing light, breathing
    Egyptian smaragdine, Sri Rejeki, Mak Sun.
    but whoever wasn’t blind already knew

    //

    autopygmalesis / autopygmalysis
    Trimeresurus insularis
    previously, on

    //

    selamat purnama 🌕

    photo of bright and deep green leaves, broad star-shaped begonia leaves with maidenhair fern

    beauty breathers //

    familiar

    if i remember you, i was fifteen
    your hair was knotted by dirty difference
    flecked-amber gibbous as my need for love
    your body pliable and bored for me

    (her mother hated your feral smell)

    three decades gone, my pace is set by ghosts
    and at the door, at least three cats or four
    familiar tempo territorial, you puzzled
    pigments with my pinkest calico

    (you should know we don’t do skim)

    we go, we pan the monsoon winds, we blow
    gold-dust up noses of tropic mountains
    resuscitate, topless in hard-top jeeps
    we are burning lucky indigo, lit dupa

    (what’s here that’s spendable is yours)

    who reads as suffering comes craving rhyme
    by planetary slow, the latest virgin
    almost born, in need of form, soft hand
    and shallow. Moon meadow, nettling in time

    //

    (she didn’t mean to make you cry)

    //

    🌖

    photo looking at a grove of bamboo, across the ground that is covered with fallen bamboo leaves, at a pathway partly obstructed by fallen bamboo

    invitation //

    Indigo

    I found the true, sun-rendered into grass.
    Your crest was bruised, and bled darkly as wine,
    Unfolded fan of bronze between the green
    Blades: cut down, dissociated flame.

    Rooster plucked bald, spur-riven by rage;
    Fresh amputee of faith; his brothers, turned;
    Beloved hen, a prize for violent men;
    Disintegrated end of pointless feathers.

    If I were strong, like you, I may not
    Have chased him down and put him in a cage;
    Rewritten him this unreal sanctuary, made
    Of wire and wood, wish-woven with vervain.

    A mess of mercies is my apocalyptic kitchen.
    By my haphazard and incomplete, sincere
    Effacement, I perform, historically,
    Dueling, death-won, verb-mangled essences.

    The crumbling law of walls, a garden crossed
    By interventions; roses uprooted by birds,
    Cock-sacrificed, or saved—Indigo is
    The privilege of my indefinition . . .

    As tempered hearts traverse this tear-trembling
    Threshold, until the Iris appetite resolves
    In fundamental mud of lotus eaters—
    I offer kue, leftover from purnama.

    //

    Kue, small cakes, are often part of Balinese canang (offerings) left around the home on purnama (the full moon).

    This is my entry for the September IndieWeb Carnival, hosted by Sophia, on the theme “second person birds”.

    The Myna // Sang Jalak

    The Myna

    So here we are, in this
    Third World. Palm trees,
    Rice paddies, machetes.

    Doves couple on concrete walls.
    Seasalt breeze, like surface
    Fire . . . Sapphire, emerald.

    Sanctuary comes, commands
    Silence. Our mothers cut tongues
    To police. Masked,

    The myna bird speaks
    On the mulberry tree. Elsewhere,
    Ants against an elephant.

    //

    Sang Jalak

    Jadi disinilah kita,
    Di Dunia Ketiga ini. Pohon palem,
    Sawah, parang.

    Merpati bercinta di dinding beton.
    Angin laut asin, seperti permukaan
    Api . . . Safir, zamrud.

    Suaka datang, menuntut
    Keheningan. Ibu-ibu kita memotong
    Lidah ke polisi. Bertopeng—

    Jalak Bali berbicara,
    Di pohon murbei. Di tempat lain,
    Semut melawan gajah.

    //

    endives and mallows

    this morning, handsome as a child, touches 
    with warming fingers the amethyst mallow.

    delivers, gladly, each from darkening time:
    the businessman, lucid as professor;

    the tyrant, same as refugee, receives
    his quickening caress, the goldenlight of youth.

    but not each child. nor any child— the sun
    has blinded all with his apparition.

    a forest of light is teething in the seed,
    dog star, a diamond cleverly effaced.

    her baby will be different from the rest:
    impeccable smile, a garden’s wondering, walking train—

    daily untangling from the priest’s embrace;
    to carry off, intact, her very name.

    //

    close up photo of an orchid glazed by rain water, with large arching leaves and two blooming flowers, one of which looks at the viewer like a little fairy person. the flower is bright white with maroon and magenta-purple markings with orange eyes.

    oyi //

    while waiting

    i seemed to hear a new leaf budding from
    outside, across the garden. i, pristine
    sat on our bed— the future strange, deranged—
    an alien inventing self-erasures.

    is it normal, in my crone, to feel this way?
    i missed a contentwarning— fingering machines,
    scissored by shades of glass. the news,
    the look of starving innocents; the bud,

    not yetgreen, also not yet visible.
    hallucination of the woozyqueen
    or turquoise bees, copper goldenbuzzing
    around the vervain; a shipwreck from afar

    in language of my nature, or astray
    unfounded tear, some private pearl, ruptured—

    //

    🌘

    earthquake

    it felt like grass, before it felt like stone.
    the other side of flame, igneous black
    or tattoos grappling for your diamond face.
    so i grew roots in water, he in bone.

    and what if i abstain from apples for
    a year, a tear, a deathtime. would he still be
    indifferent? or disappeared into
    his silverriver hair, my cloudy mountain.

    your wooly light tempted discovery,
    pulsating veins of mercury, the ground
    mantle unbound. it whispers— not a limb
    of you is immune to this hungering human.

    //

    🌓

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