if you wire our gate
and board the way
I un-wire you
I remove your board
and hope for the best
shew compassion for failure
but show all carotid fears
phuck effluvia and paraphenalia
just sit with me be incandescenseless
no more wires no more boards
aphorismus contra animus
let us tear away the caul
offer un-veiled belly letters
I say I am sorry
how all of us suffer
you bend the wire
and hang it on
the tomato vine fence
"what should the sign say?"
we say at the same time
Sign by Greg Correll
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for the cosmic consequences all fit in tinier spaces than we once supposed.
I sheer off my old skin
a hair shirt
a deep regret
a Methuselah tongue in Antigone's body.
I am the clock
ticking silently
that has patience to spare.
I am the hound
wearied of sniffing for its master.
I await the clue which cements bonds.
I pour out the denial and wait for the stars, with courage,
to fill my emptied jar.
Peace to you, Greg.
May peace that is constant redeem all thought.
R
r.
and thats a lovely sign.
But it made me get lost and I don't have any idea what you are saying.
It isn't a bad place to be lost.
Banishment, rejection ... of the mind? or be it body?; wires and boards, bindings and blocks; fear and hope; hope and fear; sorrow for today, tomorrows ... compassion be darned! just be with me ... as I am .. this is me...
Significance?
Significant.
Forgive me please if I don't hear well ... and then tell me again because I will be listening still ... for you can teach and I can learn.
Little Kate: I follow, the poem leads, sometimes.
but the events that inspired it are still unfolding. This poem is a note to myself, a reminder: stand against the padlock and the barrier, but sit with the one who needs them. don't teach or train or chastise or even expect them to ever change, to lose their fear. just sit. not as a radiant alternative, because sadly I am no such thing. I make wires of words and risk all when I use them with anger and with fear.
we are all helpless and powerless, most of the time. sit, have a nosh, set it aside -- that's what we can do, what we can offer. This poem is a corrective for thinking correctives are possible, a note to myself: lettres can be belle, but belly letters prove us human to one another, and the the belliest of letters are: I am sorry.
Every day I unwire the gate.
to reach and straighten
up to the stars
soar past
the veil
and then
only then
will # 7
smile back.
Every word telling
your brilliance is beyond us.
Belly letters and hangers and cauls and painful death
life gone as aborted when...
I can only rate you thus>R
Offer unveiled belly letters"
I hear you, Greg....
We are not without anger. Nor are we without fear. We are not without need. We are a complicated lot with very little power. Sometimes, though, all we can do ... is just sit. Sit and listen. Sit and just be ... with one another. And, yes, there are many, many times that each one of us will need to utter the words ... I am sorry.
The power we do have in this world ... is to love and understand ... to lift one another in the smallest of ways.
Small but significant.