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Poetry
A glowing conception
As in the eye of an
insect
Large as a wail
The formation of humankind
Is huge before the tale of the tiny
Grand in the scheme of today & tomorrow
The human organism lives.
I bleed the words from myself
Hard as the surface between pen & paper
I am alone within the shell of my skin
One giant piece of joy
As green as the grand moss
Over the earth the gel of life singing
The dark bursting
Into the light born
Again a mountain of beings
Decorated with love
A glowing conception.
Alone on the dunes
that cold summers
night
moved away from the "dune party"
noisy kinds throwing beer cans
I moved away from their wretching
to the crest of 'Blueberry Hill'
There slept in my wool Plaid
lined black cape Like a tent
yet exposed to all the elements of life
alone with the sky
And the eternal call
of that wild place & TIME.....
Winding, the highway
through racist 1960’s Mississippi
And I, fifteen
alone with my black ‘old man’ ;
Ready to be strung up
If caught with this white girl
Thru Ol’ Miss
toward Brownville,
Texas and beyond.
Along curling mountain roads
rife with Indian men and women
tending the steepest slopes of corn rows,
Towards the hungry streets of Mexico City
Where, almost homeless
we eat day old rolls
and wander those streets
Past the huge white Russian Embassy
The little Cuban consulate
with the miniature deer in the courtyard
In search of some greater fortune.
Bread Line
The Woman child
standing on line
at the food pantry
Gulping
Choking ever so slowly on her poverty...
Great Bright Explosion
Rumbling in the darkness
morning flashes into our midst
Consuming the night
in flaming sunlight
births the singing of the birds
Purple & pink
the horizon stretches
Everwhere !
Cats & cats
Lincoln Tunnel
Sped you & I
UK open top roadster
Home 'til you came
Lady & Baroness
The 'Rolls' to the core
destination Vanguard
Greenwich Village
Where Thalonious Jazzman
swung from the chandelier
Now from night air, jazz is emergent
We three, your convertible
off to Washinton Heights-
In his home Thalonious dreams
No longer discordant
Walking in sleep
He sings to my no
"Have you heard me play ?"
Thalonious at his Grand
I meet the man of Jazz !
"Have you heard me play ?"
I admit to no
The beautiful piano he plays for me !
I return with Nica
to her house on Weehawken cliff
She says her "Cats & cats !"
She is Jazzking.
Loosely
like liquid garments
floating free
in an indeterminant place
that is me
that is all
that exists
nothing is all that is real
my hour is come
here I am, Death
naked in time
swimming before your eyes
in the milk of my life
suspended and free
in the space of this hour
the song of this minute
the voice of this moment
IS, my jewel.
©Copyright
2008, Mary Barnet.
All rights reserved.
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