Verses/Curses

    if still then

    before the dawn
    a certain rooster crows

    by press of the unseen
    a mountain moves

    the same parade of crimes
    and allegations

    the same old song
    of bruises going blues

    if still then
    then mercy for the heart

    who skipped a step
    to hold me by her news


    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    so it is unseen (adelos) by them
    (the many lovers)

    if still then
    they will be willing (boulomai)
    to be beloveds (philoi)

    // 232ε

    ὥστε ἄδηλον αὐτοῖς

    εἰ ἔτι τότε βουλήσονται φίλοι εἶναι

    desert habit

    i leave
    i keep leaving you
    until i am your habit of leaving

    and when you give me ways
    like the unwilling
    that i am

    i breathe
    for i am not
    leaving scattered by the wind

    so you keep me walking away
    i will find your face
    my love


    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    and in other familiars (oikeios)
    they come to be (gignomai)
    experienced (empeiros)

    // 232ε

    καὶ τῶν ἄλλων οἰκείων ἔμπειροι ἐγένοντο

    take a good look

    take a good look
    i said
    arranging my body
    for you to see

    and safe here
    as any animal
    in the ruins of desire

    take a good look
    at the woman
    you always leave behind


    //

    after Awḥad al-Dīn Kirmānī

    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    and also
    many of the lovers (eran)
    hearts desire (epithumeein)
    the body (soma)

    before they come to know (gignoskein)
    the turn (tropos)

    // 232ε

    καὶ μὲν δὴ τῶν μὲν ἐρώντων πολλοὶ πρότερον τοῦ σώματος ἐπεθύμησαν

    ἢ τὸν τρόπον ἔγνωσαν

    mothers

    we are invited to mampir
    so we visit many mothers
    they serve us coffee and jajan

    the mothers always cry for us
    one of my first lessons was
    the mothers always cry

    all the rivers of this island
    from the secret doors of sight
    must be their tears


    //

    🌕

    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    so there is much more hope (elpis)
    for friendship (philia) for them
    from the deed (pragma)

    rather than hatred (echthra)

    to be born (genesthai)

    // 232δ

    ὥστε πολὺ πλείων ἐλπὶς φιλίαν αὐτοῖς ἐκ τοῦ πράγματος

    ἢ ἔχθραν

    γενέσθαι

    complications of the heart

    from afar i survey
    the horizon of your heart

    there is a vast ocean
    holding a single pearl
    how it turns and turns in turns

    from nearby i listen
    and do things and try to sit still

    in a hospital waiting room
    in a foreign country where
    i had hoped to hold your hand

    but inside i succumb
    to your polishing of tears


    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    supposing (themselves)
    to be looked down upon
    by those (who would not)

    and to be serviced (opheleisthai)
    by the ones together-being

    // 232δ

    ἡγούμενοι ὑπ᾽ ἐκείνων μὲν ὑπερορᾶσθαι

    ὑπὸ τῶν συνόντων δὲ ὠφελεῖσθαι

    discipline

    photo at the beach of clear sea water washing in a sexy ripple over beige sand with black speckes in it and small touches of foam.

    morning routines
    i forgot to tell you
    but i do them too

    imagining the softness
    my two hands
    will find

    too tempted
    by the tantalizing touch
    of your discipline

    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    would not envy (phthoneein)
    those who are together-being (suneinai)

    but would hate (miseein)
    those who would not (ethelein)

    // 232δ

    οὐκ ἂν τοῖς συνοῦσι φθονοῖεν

    ἀλλὰ τοὺς μὴ ἐθέλοντας μισοῖεν

    just you

    the thunderstorm came and clapped
    and passed through like gods
    practicing my animal ears

    until i could take a deep
    and fearless nap
    of dreams

    i woke up wanting
    just you
    all over again

    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    but however many
    as happen (tugchanein)
    not
    (to be) loving (eran)

    and otherwise
    through excellence (arete)
    passed through (prassen)
    those they want (dein)

    //

    ὅσοι δὲ μὴ ἐρῶντες ἔτυχον

    ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἀρετὴν ἔπραξαν ὧν ἐδέοντο

    //

    this limasan is not a terror dream
    (or how i came to Potro Joyo House)

    strange and for a few years
    maybe 2018 to 2022
    (i moved to Indonesia in 2019)
    i dreamed mostly about a flood

    lately we live on the sawah
    and i dream of earthquakes


    (what happened in 2023 was
    the dream to build a temple
    transparently that is the one
    that grabbed me by the throat
    that was a hard-yanked chain
    to re-make my heart pounding)


    anyway i am in a skyscraper
    (in tv cities like Philadelphia)
    it starts to quake

    the building sways as i rush down
    the stairs or ladders or chutes or waterfalls
    until i come spilling out into the street


    well my dreams are hacks

    last night as i ran out i looked up and saw
    the tower sinuous begin to buckle
    and bricks were busting a volcanic bubble

    as i ran down the mountain to escape
    the expanding smoke and debris


    this limasan is not a terror dream
    i do not wake up in a fright
    (no real nightmares since U.S. America)

    but they are disaster dreams
    just now maybe like working it out
    or making something from dream rubble


    and last night it was a real earthquake
    not too distant not too deep a 4.6

    our home is a cathedral of teakwood
    beloved architect vernacular
    when it jiggles his bending pillars sound uncanny
    old joints of salvage living in the ring of fire


    //

    the maskmaker writes
    like gotong royong
    & Hong Ulun Basuki Langgeng
    🇮🇩

    stranger like desire

    you will come
    into the desert
    to know me

    you will touch me like a stranger
    as many strokes
    as many surfaces

    as many names
    as many hungry palms
    as your servant can carry

    so empty this
    your lick across the burning sand
    electricity of my thirst

    //

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    you will come (hekein)
    into difference (diaphora)
    with them

    // 232δ

    ἥξεις αὐτοῖς εἰς διαφοράν

    //

    red (palm) sugar

    you will come
    into the dessert
    to taste them

    you will eat fried plantains
    ripened until soft and sweet
    crunchy with red sugar

    too hot for wasted time
    i almost burn my tongue
    flesh tender and yellow

    greasy fingers with coconut
    oil and sticky lips
    but did you really

    //

    iced kepo

    iced kepo is freshly-squeezed
    orange juice with just-cracked
    coconut water over ice

    on a hot
    day before the rain
    comes

    maybe the traffics religion is
    theres something superficial
    about s-e-x

    //

    (kepo also means gossip)

    //

    🌔

    //

    connective tissue

    in the human body
    there is the hard
    there is the soft
    there is connective tissue

    i feel for her
    i let her flee
    i let her come
    around again we try

    the valley reaches for
    as many
    as yet unnamed
    as make it through her lips

    Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

    so having persuaded you
    to be hated
    by these

    they set you down
    in a desert (eremia)
    of loved ones (philos)

    // 232δ

    πείσαντες μὲν οὖν ἀπεχθέσθαι σε τούτοις

    εἰς ἐρημίαν φίλων καθιστᾶσιν

    //

    the beloveds embrace (on fitnah)

    so having persuaded you
    to be hated
    by these

    they set you down
    in a desert
    heart

    to show the tranquility
    of gold
    by fire

    will i

    impervious to teachers
    beaten by brute force
    fumbling my veil
    being a fool

    flower
    for you

    the cave moment

    i find myself re-enacting the moment
    i place my hand palm out and fingers spread
    as if to touch the limestone interior

    then i pretend to take some liquid ochre in my mouth
    and purse my lips and pfff — spit it
    across the imaginary surface

    and as i do i taste the tastelessness of mud
    like the hermetic chamber of the cave
    becomes a rock-womb for our trembling

    then i examine my hand with its fingers spread
    for any sign of change
    i see that everything has changed

    how can a knot

    someday we can visit
    the cave on Muna Island
    to see the ancient rock art

    the coffee cup
    the pencil
    a lock of hair

    these things pass through your hand
    and terrify me
    with their solidity

    your grasp of the vast and empty
    and i by my vanity
    struck silent

    my brown egg cracked
    by press of feather
    into the dawn

    or

    my blue marble warming
    into the seventy-thousand-year-old pocket
    of your stencilled intention

    the momentary terrible

    photo of the beach with calm green-blue water frothing up onto brownish black sand, the horizon near the middle of the image, and the sky blue and full of lofty white clouds, and maybe a rainstorm in the distance.

    i face the sea
    im drawn to play

    i face away
    im pushed back to the ever-war

    i close my eyes
    there is a cry

    when i go in
    its all of me and nobody

    the legacy of Alcibiades

    i cant forget the mutilated herms
    and glitter-ruining the sleeping streets
    his point-and-shot defection from a dream

    but i never saw such a beautiful city
    as when standing vigil on the battlefield
    his silent party drinks the wine-stained dawn

    and i will never see such a beautiful city
    as when my knees buckled by your ivy wreath
    so i lie with dancing girls for Achelous

    animal ownership

    i am in love
    with a real animal
    she feels strangely familiar
    she feels strangely kind

    i am drawn
    by her steady warmth
    by her interior calm
    she seems to understand

    i am tempted
    to bring her home
    i want her to be safe
    i am afraid she is not safe

    i am bound
    by animal ownership
    my dog is not my dog
    she is her own beach dog

    //

    disproportionate luxury

    my three cats are
    as kept-healthy housecats
    i daily reckon a deep
    irresponsibility

    //

    dessert first (so low)

    i love living where i live

    photo of dusky purple foamy sea water swirling

    never a dull moment
    immersed in your genius

    the gamelan starts at noon
    holding my heartbeat
    from the inside

    //

    🌑

    beauty of change

    i fall to fragments in the pulling of your chain
    my ageing eye-bones ugly by the sea

    as always drags for stunner-fish from me
    speaks death my fathers pockets into poverty

    futility behind me fire-dives like stars
    for childrens sea-bed faces i will never see

    the grieving know by undertowing force
    necessity your surface that i choose to be

    by breaths am i permitted in this dream
    your daily judgment sheer futurity

    my watch the world unmade as history
    your swallowing my coin remainderless

    your lie in the veil between me like a mist
    your move and i miss you infinitely

    //

    eta - note: i came across this and wanted to clarify, in case my poem may have been part of what prompted it.

    this piece was written as an attempt to work through feelings of futility, distance, and a failure of vision and expression. it was not intended as a “heroic” or “no problem” poem, or as support for war, genocide, or the justification of violence.

    it is fairly common for me to discover unintended interpretations in my poems after posting. sometimes that is part of what i value about writing this way. but i also recognize that it can lead to readings i did not anticipate, especially when the subject matter brushes up against real suffering.

    to be clear: i do not support genocide or war. i do not blame or hold animosity toward victims of violence. i have made personal choices in my life to distance myself from institutions and systems that do support those things.

    im sorry for any harm or distress this poem may have caused. that was not my intention.

    -e

    freedom advice

    to where im from
    from where ive been

    when you cant see the room
    stop throwing stones

    //

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