greenstorm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenstorm) wrote2024-01-10 10:33 pm
greenstorm) wrote2024-01-10 10:33 pm
Entry tags:
Womb-time poetry, now with -30C
Tonight my muse could be apple trees
Never dreamed of in the last hundred years
Each one as unique as any human
Unfurling in the spring sun.
Tonight my muse could be the first leaves of the year
Born from my intimacy with generations of green leafy parents
And creating intimacy with generations of ancestors
Blessing me with their presence.
Tonight my muse could be time
Like an elastic band
Drawing me tighter to my dogs
Who improbably sweeten with every passing day
Before the band snaps and they’ll be gone from me forever.
Tonight my muse could be security,
Four safe walls for the first time
With the paradox of an expiry date drawing near.
Tonight my muse could be surface
Obscuring interiors
Revealing shape
But distorted by tricks of the light.
Tonight my muse could have been love
A building, a painting, a song that one person alone could never create
A staircase climbed
A shared aspiration
Tonight my muse is the saying
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice, shame on me.
Tonight my muse is the song
99 bottles of beer on the wall
Take one down, smash it around
98 bottles of beer on the wall.
**
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
Womb of transformation
Alchemizing a little dust
Into red rock.
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
Home of the mystery
Of how fire either destroys
Or transforms mud and marks into something quite different
Into something that will last forever.
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
I would hand her my feelings
Writ in dirt
And she would make of them something beautiful
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
And she would transmute my recklessness
Half into death and destruction
And half into hungry flowers resplendent in the spring light
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
Neither of us would be able to see the future
But together we could make it
Into something beautiful.
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
She would be the warmest thing I knew
Surprising me with my own images
Bright and not yet broken
Never dreamed of in the last hundred years
Each one as unique as any human
Unfurling in the spring sun.
Tonight my muse could be the first leaves of the year
Born from my intimacy with generations of green leafy parents
And creating intimacy with generations of ancestors
Blessing me with their presence.
Tonight my muse could be time
Like an elastic band
Drawing me tighter to my dogs
Who improbably sweeten with every passing day
Before the band snaps and they’ll be gone from me forever.
Tonight my muse could be security,
Four safe walls for the first time
With the paradox of an expiry date drawing near.
Tonight my muse could be surface
Obscuring interiors
Revealing shape
But distorted by tricks of the light.
Tonight my muse could have been love
A building, a painting, a song that one person alone could never create
A staircase climbed
A shared aspiration
Tonight my muse is the saying
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice, shame on me.
Tonight my muse is the song
99 bottles of beer on the wall
Take one down, smash it around
98 bottles of beer on the wall.
**
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
Womb of transformation
Alchemizing a little dust
Into red rock.
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
Home of the mystery
Of how fire either destroys
Or transforms mud and marks into something quite different
Into something that will last forever.
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
I would hand her my feelings
Writ in dirt
And she would make of them something beautiful
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
And she would transmute my recklessness
Half into death and destruction
And half into hungry flowers resplendent in the spring light
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
Neither of us would be able to see the future
But together we could make it
Into something beautiful.
If I had a kiln I would name her Persephone
She would be the warmest thing I knew
Surprising me with my own images
Bright and not yet broken