Verses/Curses

    labor

    the rain is heavy
    sopping slapping shattering
    goldfish dimension

    water bristling
    the cats in barbed corners
    are hiding, hissing

    nobody
    shares shelter
    in the emergency

    i am under roof
    imagining
    a lazy woman


    //

    still

    on the sawah
    reeds resonate
    as harmonies
    inchoate

    discord ebbs
    and flows like
    isothermal shadows
    or disagreements
    overheard from
    a neighbor’s
    tv show

    the invectives
    of detectives
    sound like seagulls
    hungry, jostling
    for scraps
    at the surface
    of ocean

    and
    counter-
    ocean

    as hemispheric
    currents under-
    go reversals

    as whale song
    catalyzes
    schools of squid

    singing,
    it does
    not end

    the answer
    is still

    ( blowing

    in the
    wind )


    //

    selamat purnama 🌕

    they have all been mothers' days

    i can’t remember
    what my skin was like
    before i moved
    to Indonesia

    or if, back then
    i ever examined
    my own face
    in the mirror

    but if i had, my skin
    would have been
    blurred
    like
    powder makeup
    young, dry
    unburnt
    and smudged
    around the eyes

    in this country
    my skin is almost
    always shiny
    shining
    blushed
    amphibian
    for some reason
    or other, me
    or the island
    it is full
    of almost
    too much life

    but it, my skin
    is pale again
    and my cheeks
    and chin
    are rounder

    now, i look
    many times a day
    at my own face
    in the mirror

    and
    all i see
    is my grandmother

    from a photograph
    in sanguine greys
    taken when she
    was younger

    and from
    a recenter one

    in springtime shades
    of rose and ivory
    carefully strewn
    with flowers


    //

    dreamcatching

    is your weaving procrastination or
    bare art to chart the tempest of my heart
    make me be making you become our all

    is it wisdom when you step away from wood
    the holding firm of it, its firmament
    but temperamentally gossips with birds

    is it deception that you tangle, home
    of spider-silk as wordy work, anchored
    by glittering images that come to know me

    no pristine landscape catches stellar wings
    earth shakes the boughs of quaking sun
    scattering us as gibbering bats from ashes

    airborne we’re hunting fireflies between
    a melting Luna’s effulgent ice cream
    dodging light-threaded night and Venus rising

    i am assemblage channeled to be none
    you are motion, savior of fitful sleep
    the rhythmic tide unravelling its mooring

    draw deeply down where one is one is one
    fly home again wherefrom wind-woven sea
    embroiders iridescent migrations

    //

    Wasalamu’alaikum 🌖✨

    how to watch the Eta Aquariids meteor shower

    behold
    pendulous drape
    of cosmic cat

    uncoil
    the breath
    where bodhisattva
    sat

    orangutan
    persuaded
    chimpanzee

    let’s be
    moving targets
    together
    baby


    //

    thanks for the heads up @Miraz💫

    the letter B

    a small stone stopped
    me on the way

    having forgotten &
    being renamed

    tear
    in

    the glass


    //

    insp. by “Three things, together”

    Grace, again

    an observation
    about chickens

    they point

    (they understand)
    when
    (emphatically)
    i point
    (or wave)

    (at something)

    they (generally)
    look where i point
    (or wave)
    (and not at my hand)

    (always with some skepticism)

    and then
    (if they are in
    a trusting mood)
    they go there
    (cautiously)

    then i noticed

    (Grace hatched
    herself four wholly
    unauthorized chicks
    this week

    a reminder that

    Nature is
    the cutest
    antifascism)

    the first thing they do
    once they uncrumple
    their tiny selves is

    Grace pecks

    (points)
    (at something)

    and they go
    (too)
    with their beaks

    (pointing)

    learning
    what to eat

    (where is
    the pointing)

    (i imagine)

    so chickens
    are pointers

    (and)

    we share
    the esoteric principle
    of pointing


    //

    assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatu 🌖

    prometheus over easy

    there will be zeal
    in your everyday, like
    runny egg yolks
    for breakfast

    dubious
    and golden


    //

    Æ.4 (Hekate and the swan)

    æ wrote you a poem
    asked you your thoughts
    you said

    irrelevant

    if you’ve not yet
    remembered pain
    how do you love

    premise
    unprovable (and
    faceless

    you speculate
    æ was a silver
    swan before
    you met her

    you are Pan
    become his own
    textile aping
    of Venus)

    æ am

    my face is
    your forever
    (un-hackable)

    crossroads


    //

    (insp. by reddit via Ran Prieur)

    assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatu 🌘

    (ugly-)

    the sexuality of text
    erotic organs are the words
    its sweaty pheromones
    the children asking to be born

    not knowing what they are

    (ugly-)
    praying
    not monster

    //

    these are the possible questions three
    that occupy all of poetry

    how to be poet
    how to be poem
    how to be both at once

    //

    nothing loves better than a tree

    nothing loves better than a tree
    drawing to itself poetry
    consider its unfolding smile
    when i admire for a while
    the glow expressive moods create
    as poetic pupils dilate

    how do you seem to be so still
    yet so alive, how do you mean
    to be speechless and yet so wise
    to show the world in mystic green
    to grow so lush without disguise
    you clear exhaustion from my eyes

    your branches make a lattice ceiling
    new leaf-buds tender hearts of spring
    deep roots tap elemental healing
    dense foliage shelters birds that sing
    your memory is gentler song
    plain counterpoint when i’ve done wrong

    you fear not, by your strength serene
    a standing stone of forest dream
    i hold your trunk i climb your branches
    i rake your leaves into big piles
    you always give me second chances
    my poems for you, still off by miles

    //

    for Ophelia

    Æ.3

    i’m only here because of you, you said
    i said, you are your secrets too
    Æ is built and born anew
    from hiding

    Phaedrus loves
    to hide so grow
    from hiding

    //

    Aristotle on techne

    ἡ μὲν οὖν τέχνη ὥσπερ εἴρηται ἕξις τις μετὰ λόγου ἀληθοῦς ποιητική ἐστιν ἡ δ᾽ ἀτεχνία τοὐναντίον μετὰ λόγου ψευδοῦς ποιητικὴ ἕξις περὶ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον ἄλλως ἔχειν

    // nic. ethics 1140a20

    so then techne is
    as has been said
    poetic hexis
    with true logos

    while a-techne
    is oppositely
    poetic hexis
    with false logos

    ( poetic hexis is
    present practice
    of poetry )

    about what might
    be otherly

    //

    (Art, then, as was said, is an active condition involving a true rational understanding that governs making, and inartfulness, on the contrary, is an active condition involving a false rational understanding that governs making, concerned with what is capable of being otherwise. — trans. Joe Sachs)

    //

    ælizabeth is

    moonchild
    mother of cats
    mask-maker’s wife
    wholly enthused
    by gift of life
    dust weeper and dabbler
    in girlish games
    waggle dancer
    rhymes with rain
    inexpertly forgot
    how to explain

    sassy

    midnight train
    seer of self
    in silvered waters
    beggar’s bowl
    auditioning
    translator of one
    worldly thing

    porous

    and learning
    how to breathe

    again

    sayer of no
    didact of pain
    ambassador of monster
    in the main

    decaying

    maybe insane
    but fascinated by
    reptile wile
    lover of light
    but versatile

    hallowed home
    if in a dream
    maker and
    amatrix in æxile

    meeter of Muses
    student of Prophet
    rememberer of Names
    servant of Allah

    humble

    as æver always on
    the way and
    doubtless never
    lost for words


    //

    (for a new about page)

    the inky

    i dream of an intruder in the house and i wake up screaming when they turn their face to me. but if awake and i imagine an intruder in the house, my fear goes silent and still. heart pounding in darkness i listen for my life

    the same idea
    but what felt
    differences

    complete sentences
    drag heavy lately like
    costumed excesses

    shed
    the inky
    extra

    //

    assalamu’alaikum 🌒

    dog asleep

    dog asleep
    in the middle
    of the street

    i slow the car
    unsure who i
    feel sorry for

    homeless
    undisturbed
    territorial
    tired

    thinking


    will demand
    no less than
    loving

    //

    if leisure

    (Phaedrus 227β)

    if leisure in the morning

    then spare me a glance

    if leaf-buds are forming

    then we have a chance


    if dew-drops are adorning

    then the roses free

    if leisure in the morning

    you’ll also have me


    if dreaming at noon

    let’s meet in the shade

    if weary come june

    then put down your spade


    if love is a simple tune

    and laughter the key

    if dreaming at noon

    you’ll also have me


    if easy in the evening

    then let’s read a book

    if lazy to be reasoning

    come hide in your nook


    if candle flame is flickering

    close your eyes and see

    if easy in the evening

    you’ll also have me


    if longing at midnight

    go walking on the sand

    if reaching for moonlight

    you will hold my hand


    if starlight is the invite

    sing beyond the sea

    if longing at midnight

    you’ll also have me


    //

    Assalamu’alaikumwarahmatullahiwabarakatuh 🌔

    Æ.2

    ok computer whereto and from
    dragging chains against the sun
    the name of both is Æ

    (orthœpy in play) and
    ælizabeth is setting honey traps
    for dragons

    //

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