Diary: El Cajón de Grecia, September 2018

A new poem for September. I think it’s kinda fun, I hope you do too.

Irina and Cricket

Awake in bed
tossing, turning
Irina mumbles
that cricket, chirping
right in my ear
ceaseless, insistent.
At her unrest
Cricket relents.
Listen closely he says
I’ll tell you a tale
to ease you to slumber.

Coyote and Tinamú

Long before the beginning
there was Coyote
Mother Coyote too
to feed and care for the children.

Mother Coyote and pups
one day passing
the house of Tinamú Woman
“Join me for a meal
something very special,
my children, roasted,”
beckons Tinamú Woman.
“We’d love to,” accepts Mother Coyote.
“You must take care
to not bite on the bones,”
cautions Tinamú Woman.
They sit and eat
sucking meat off the bones
down to the last morsel
professing with relish
how fine the repast.

When the food is finished
the bones are collected
and Tinamú Woman
throws them into the air
singing “My children
come now back to life.”
And down come her children
whole and unharmed.
“Now that’s quite the feat,”
Mother Coyote exclaims.
“You must tell me
how is it done?”
And Tinamú Woman
reveals the secret.
As Coyotes are leaving
Mother Coyote, well bred
says to their hostess,
“In thanks for your kindness,
would you and your children
come to my house for a treat,
perhaps tomorrow?”
“Very much would we like that,”
answers Tinamú Women.
“Until tomorrow, then.”

On the way to Coyotes
Tinamú Woman chatters with her chicks
“I’ll bet Mother Coyote
is roasting her pups.
We’ll nibble the bones
while she’s not attentive.
When done with your food
excuse yourselves
slip quietly away
deep into the brush.”
When they arrive at Coyotes
the spread has been set.
Mother Coyote reminds
to take care that the bones
remain unscratched.
The Tinamús sit and eat
and Mother Coyote, being distracted
they peck at the bones.
The children now full
praise the food
make their excuses
and one by one
slide from the table
wander off to the woods.

The dinner now done
the bones are gathered
and Mother Coyote
singing the song
that her children return
flings the bones in the air
but they fall to the ground
unchanged.
She picks up the bones
again throws them up
repeating the ritual
and then yet again
the results, the same.
Mother Coyote in fury
bares her teeth
turns to Tinamú Woman
“You’ve chewed on the bones!”
But Tinamú Woman
stretches her wings
and flying off
catches up with her chicks
safe in the woods.

And the story ending
the darkness of night
is beginning to turn light.

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Diary: El Cajón de Grecia, August 2018

Two new poems for August, intended for the second section – titled Job – of the book I’m working on, The Book of Noah. I think this section is now finished and I’ll be moving on to work on the final section, which is mostly finished but needs reviewing and a few additional poems. Hopefully the book will be done and published by the end of the year.

Rainy season respite

Sun abloom
morning still
butterflies, hummingbirds
flit in the flowers

Canopy burble
oropéndola throng
ochre flash yellow
treetop to treetop

Poetic mystery

The path that can be followed
is not the true path.
That which must be sought
is not to be found.

Desire, blinding
it cannot be discerned.
Desire, absent
it cannot be witnessed.

Wordless, the beginning.
words, the birthing.
The two, one
manifesting manifold.

Poetic mystery.