Epic composed of lines from About Now: Collected Poems of Joanne Kyger

nobody@vox.com(Renee) — Sun, 11 May 2008 21:20:32 -0700

                                                                    Superabundance

                                                                                  May it shower

                                                                                                     down
                                                                    like baby
                                                                                  peony
                                                                                           petals.

I am brave
I tell him the truth.
I need:

Replacement Buddhas...
The secret of the spoon...

which although they do not exist in reality
seem to do so.

                            --I thought I could be his nurse
                              & heart & soul
                              and I see he is the leader
                              I look at him emotionally
                              sexually...

                             Deer Lady
       is dressed in human clothes
Someone wants to make love to her.
She kisses him...
                                   In the dark
the spotlight shows the passionate couple
in a yabyum embrace. She is the rustle of
the top most branches and the sigh of
new green grass.
                     His eyes they are the same
he has been here for three
thousand years.
                      "I see the unicorn before me"
                      thinks she.
An excitement from the position of
his body.

He is poised as if to make
balance
in the universe.

           For how long we sit
                                      in quiet
                                               no speech
                                    creates a
                                                tie
                                 between us
                                                for I am young & yet
                I know what I am doing.

Heaven
explodes the walls
against the pattern of fleur-de
-lis and marigolds

And seasons spring
and fall.

                               Soft as
           a throw of silk
           she said, perhaps
           I dreamed it all.

           The length & breadth
           of all that chasing
                     &
           how Homer dislikes Paris
           sneaking through his home.
           He has              little rival
           and lets no one know.

The real earth
moves and falls away into pieces
in the north.

I am mortal.

                                                                       You dream of me

                            a deeper forest I came from

running for

                      the center where                    you look too.

A jeweled tree poet's tree--

I look around at the                                         shimmering

                                           energy

                                                          from things that seem as symbols.
I am curious

                      for what you can bring
                                                                from the tree.

You called to the words
and the waters went up in mist
then the soft earth came to sight.
We shall circle here
singing for the evening star.

Time is moving out from under us

Who are we
                          Who are we

                 violet of memory's flat plain

we embrace, swallow the sea

walk, past centuries into poetry

form pleasant contemplation of innocence

in lucid suspension sing.

Monkey man is leading me by the hand
past lovers so entwined
I levitated
in the most elevated
State of the Union.

And back to the body
where I was born:

                        pink tips that are fingers
                        eyes sparkling
                        heart-shaped bottom...

            I love her
                         and him.

Can you see you're it
Oh Moon

              He makes love to you
              a life time.              Plays
              to as many people as he can...

Who am, was, I?
All of it, all of it.

I am here at 3
now it seems I lead.

A lady in white
bathed by my own silver light.

FATHER TIME
& MOTHER EARTH

thought about all of you last night
and a great blue heron came up
and the other animals came close
all gods in the human breast.

O don't let me swoon

You intercepted my vibes.
that's fine.
Now you have a sweet tone.
tree holes.
boobies.
smooth countenance mind transmission.

                  I am a writer.
                  I will not dwell
                  on the question
                  of why.

Psyche is not a personal
but a world experience.

                  I am in a bed in a hotel
                  having a talk with consciousness.
                  OK, I am actually in bed with _____.

                  I exist outside time &
                  this world I called my own
                  opens out.

Sometimes I lay in the bathtub chanting OM

I know I don't suffer more than anyone

I read Cixous, Jung

The feminine spirit infuses these words.

I sing:
          You showed me the meadow
          and milkwood and silkwood
          and you would if I would
          because threads that are golden
          don't break easily.

Joanne sings:
                      Me is memory
                                              take me out

                      May your flowery face
                                                        bow

                      In the teeny
                                          trembling world.

I am that which god wants
brilliant quince in bloom
we meet once again, friend.

                     Electric enlightenment
                                 is in
                     your   sexy   heaven

which I am inventing

O My Big One

(we make it up as we go along)

Come back!

Your presence is an aphrodisiac.

I know this is a detective story
of passions, blood stuff
around which our lives crank
in a friendly sinuous manner
sultry as a New York poetry trip
where we danced all night under
electric candlelight. Worthy
to uncover the hidden home
of the Dakini, wash, bathe, lay
papers with meaning aside.
The rare jewel, the rare jewel
caught in the net invisible.
I must be transplanting thoughtforms,
like transplanting poppies,
I am noting your strong ripply
vibration aura
and making you a new flower
from my inner world.

--Ann Arbor to Pennsylvania
May 11, 2008

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Renee Marie

Epic composed of lines from About Now: Collected Poems of Joanne Kyger