Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Ancient Herstory

Thru blood sunsets laid
on their backs, legs spread wide,
to the snapping sparks of the el train;
it speaks to me with her voice.

In the parade and phony pagentry of
Michigan Avenue, along the lakefront
in the public places;
it speaks with her voice.

The white-capped lake, wind whipped
trees & the endless debate of birds
& highschoolkids in the heat;
speak to me with her voice.

On this, the first bright day
this year, I am free
to agree that she adulted me.
We, as two, cocooned; & then a
longlovely metamorphosis,
into a mercifully gentle,
almost imperceptible decline.
It was long, it
lasted forever.
We, as two, emerged into winter anew;
changed & uncomfortable,
unrecognizable & alien, grew into
new skins,
new abilities.
I would not know her if I saw her.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The Chicago of Me

Flame-built n' cured
still smoking from celestial
atomic alignment;
poured thru layers of atmosphere
to here;
dragged clouds down with me
for my clothes, stained now
black with soot to match
my hair n' eyes. Earthly body
made manifest this way
skin kilned ceramic white
by the rubbing burn of air.
Pages n' pages left in my book
there is only friction n' gravity
to tug at clouds
while I pull n' work n' flame n' drift
all with equal purpose
n' justified ends.
That quiet voice that speaks to me
of the backs of buildings
tells me the stories
of the ones who leave running.
I stare at their backs, unconvinced.
I am not of the type to flee.
I am of the roots of the trees here
the bricks of houses are a trillion
metamorphed molecules of me.
I have no home,
but I contain multitudes.