19.9.07

Of Tattoos and Cryptozoologists

My voice cracked three times tonight as I interjected my meager commentary among the conversations of the writer's guild. Maybe they didn't notice--I certainly didn't say aloud, "bah! I sound like a thirteen-year-old!" Of course, Charmi is probably reading this now, smirking a much-deserved smirk. They were all wonderful people to meet and I'm glad I decided to attend. At their urging I'm reprinting, here, some of the poetry I brought with me to the meeting. For the non-poetry-enthusiasts reading this (you know who you are, my friends) I promise this will not become "verse central" as my Livejournal (which I'm almost certain you don't visit) has become. No, indeed, I intend to put as much prose here as I can squeeze out of my thick skull. In the meantime...


Notes From The Hospital Room

I.

We are running in new circles
Alien to the spirals and circuits of the last century
Which still keep time for us
Yet familiar as Shakespeare, that old horse
Standing by to draw the fire engine
Should we all catch Hell.

II.

A coin is a coin is a coin
Flipping, once minted and worn through passage is
No less worth the exchange
No longer bitten as proof
So we take in trade these furlongs
These fathoms and miles in the patterned
Grain of body hair, the folds of skin
And brain
Folding and unfolding
A time into a time, into now
Into the moment I understand everything
Has come before, and I am circulated.

III.

The spell is the greatest human invention
Its breaking our grip on the inevitable
But when it takes us the end does not matter
We have left our astounding
Ripples in the polished stone.
In a spell I pour out a torrent of words
And when it breaks, a torrent of words
Soaks the hems of the women's skirts
As they come and go.



[Before you know it]

Before you know it
You have lost the luxury of trying
Something new
Without breaking the whole
Spine supporting everything you count
As your life
And each fresh unbroken face
Peeks and smiles at you from the tapestry
Robing the doorway
You cannot pass
The complex embroidery of truce
Beyond which glimpsed
Young beauty guides a garment down
The concourse of the perfect calf
And tucks something behind one ear
Or beckons, perhaps.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

i'm glad you went. you read some of my favorites too.

Charmi said...

Mark, we were so glad to have you! There's no smirking over here. I can't wait to get to workshopping. I sent the e-mail out this a.m. Welcome aboard!

Mark said...

Charmi - Thanks, I had a really good time. It's nice to be able to sit down with a group of people and just feel immediately comfortable.

Sara - I didn't know you liked those so much. *beams with pride*

Charmi said...

I'm glad that was your experience. We're a pretty eclectic group, but hopefully not too intimidating.