6 x 36 Nocturnes
[sixth series]
“The way things work
is that eventually
something catches.”
—Jorie Graham, 1996.
i. For Lisa Marie
Beyond shine, beyond blue fancy,
my fingers touch yours, eyes on eyes,
lips on lips, a mile crushed, many,
marry me, marry me. Your teasing laugh.
Your kindness. Your ferocity. Your pain.
Nothing in this world exists. I love you.
******
ii. Thanksgiving (for Lisa Marie)
No music to share yet tonight, not
tonight, no hook into its rumble,
no trail of ash unto its flame. Claws
undrawn, rage in a box with no walls,
empty streets, ceasing trains. I love you,
marry me. Marry me.
“Yes,” you say. “Always.”
The least thought matters, marry me,
marry me. A choice, a truth. A magick.
A gleam, a way. A kitten in our bed
kneads your breast. I trace my hand on
your belly as you drift. You dream. You moan.
You seize me. I love you.
“Yes,” you say. “Always.”
Our prayer tonight a white butterfly,
returned to you from a forgotten star.
Now a candle, now a scent, now the song
we are learning to share. Your pink
gown is our hunger. My blue suit our embrace.
Marry me, marry me.
“Yes,” you say. “Always.”
******
iii. Adoration
Preach. Teach. Heal. Diminishing
to a road, a daisy.
Trust the instincts when pursuing tribe &
meat. Question otherwise, doubt,
laugh, scratch. Give more.
Preach, teach, heal. Elements of a book,
a song. Forget the words. The tune matters.
All is path. I will follow you. A coming day,
beyond following. All is path. Body clothed
in lace, beauty so, never forget her laugh.
Preach. Teach. Heal. A life insistent
at sucking, strewing. Scatters every night.
Raindrops. No names. Bliss. Thank you.
Days of work & love, too, laughter
on empty beaches. Chocolate.
Preach. Teach. Heal. Get a shower.
Put on your boots. Get to work.
******
iv. Autumn Passage (for Lisa Marie)
To play one true note, true as a leaf's cycle,
true as a full moon floating in a merry-clouded
sky, true as our child's songs of cookies &
teapots, & rowboat dreams, true as once &
forevermore, true, true, one true note, true
enough to linger on between living borders, among
giggling bones, witted dreams, to play one true
note undeniable to king & guru, a throb of
blood to disturb dry, wordy wars, one true note,
a moan, a mumble, to capture the words &
reinvent the world, one true note, several,
compose a thrumming kiss, wrap it in crimson,
bounce it to you by way of merry-clouded full
moon, true, true, one true note, play one
true note with me, love, we'll make a song,
become a door, an open door, our hands
to wage Beauty, our thighs to make noisy
maps unto healing, to play one true note
even when the raw empty arms of trees
are truest, when love seems more rupture
than gestation, to play, howl, & bleed one true
note til what we share bridges all we
have lost, to bright & bounce & realize we
are someone from somewhere, point through
the sky to some dot once our home. Whistle
if you love me. Sigh if you don't. I've been
waiting to love you all my life. Songs
of cookies & teapots. Rowboat dreams.
I saw my scripture burn to life at last as
you brushed your dark hair, true note, true note,
you are my true note in these daysless times
when I watch squirrels twitch & hop across
leafy streets, when I remember my life & wonder
what remains, something remains, a true note,
one true note, here is my pen & my purse,
here is my heart, here is my hand. Here is my dream of home.
******
v. Love & Peace (for Lisa Marie)
Love & peace. Anger. Dandelions. Words spiked
& those muddied. With every moment,
the snowstorm clarifies, it ripples.
Love & peace. There must be music every hour.
A hand in darkness touches a hand,
question, smile, sigh. Music always.
Love & peace. Ever there is war, ever
there is laughter. Everyone evolves,
no losers. Transcendence. Ice cream.
Love & peace. The tired talk of daddies &
mammas. The new talk of dancers &
phreaks. What's going on? Do you know?
Love & peace. Enough to suggest a world,
a model for hands to grasp. Release brings
the true flame, what kings & preachers cannot abide.
******
vi. Ceremony (for Lisa Marie)
“We’ve got to come alive and aware.”
--D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, 1928
i. Ceremony
Tonight, my love, I approach you, by flare,
by crackle, brush of feather, twist of pen,
I approach you, hands opened to a sugared
sky, eyes bright with the hunger of a dream,
I approach you with a heart sturdy as a plank,
with a mind trembly as an ocean breeze.
We mate as tender things melt in the sun,
as outlaws crouch by a fire warming meat,
as a bald preacher starves toward staying union,
as a slumbering beast shifts, & nears its bearing time,
as the king crushes a trio of mushrooms under foot,
as the universe dreams, dissipates, resurrects.
I approach you, tonight, my love, with
laughter, laughter, neither truth nor lie.
ii. Birds
Brush of feathers in a sugared night-sky,
a branch no hand has ever grasped,
a cloud no poem has ever remarked,
one, two, a flock, no hands to reach for
eternity & settle for lips, bricks, paintbrushes—
no hands to ball, to stroke, to craft, to grasp.
iii. Fleshspace
Butterflies from fire swoon the night, crystal
ecstasy aflame, flip & flash of recovered
sight, symbiosis of heart blood & bone,
alone & alive in the world, a beginning.
A gift. How good. A beginning. Now learn
to walk, now pass along to water, to stone.
Now bear an axe, now build a house.
Now feel your heart, now seek a wife.
Now study the fields, now become a seed.
Now cradle your young, now teach her your songs.
Now meet among the trees, tribe & drums.
Now bury your questions, & close your eyes.
iv. Eros
Tonight, my love, & I wonder if any
question is the key, if any fence cut
or wall fell would reveal red leaves,
golden shadows, unguarded eyes.
Once we walked a city street, handed
prayers to the poor, crumbs to
creatures chirping, mewing. Your laughter
taught me new music I could not write
down, music of your smirk, music of your
young breast. Music of sugar & kindness.
No question. No fence. No wall.
Build a house. Become a seed. Close your eyes.
Tonight, my love, teach me to disappear
into your heart, tap & reveal a butterfly
from each of your fingers. Tonight, my love,
teach me the pathless way from our pressed
loins to the stars. The way there & back.
v. Artist’s Prayer to His Muse
I seek the singer to become her song,
become the pen she wields, become
the clay she presses. Yours, alive & aware.
I seek you, my muse, my love, to become
the red leaves, the golden shadows,
the unguarded eyes. Laughter, neither truth nor lies.
vi. Muse’s Prayer to Her Artist
Broken world, my love, learn from me
to heal it. Language of feathers,
songs of water, scriptures of stone.
Move to a new drumbeat, the disorder
of dancers in a field. Tell them all for me:
the truth reveals nothing but ashes at dawn.
Perfect world, my pilgrim. Red leaves,
goldenshadows, unguarded eyes.
The next birth, blood as fierce as always.
Another union, howls of surprise & remembrance.
Grow from the sky, grasp the soil, praise men & stars:
You are always home. You are always home.
******
6 x 36 Nocturnes, VI, #1-6
tonight add 6 x 36 Nocturnes, VI, #1-6, read here my descent into the underworld, how love will drive a heart into deeper and stranger and ever more dangerous places to do biddings it cannot describe to itself on a bright, ordinary day, but they are sensible at midnight, full moon, long unnamed road, read here where all the Nocturnes have been traveling, for this is the Underworld, you have arrived...
. Thanks for sharing your beautiful and so alive texts with us, Cenacle!!!!!!
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