First Meeting - Poems - Curses and Inspirations
Here is a selection of the poems read at the inaugural Crash Course. Subject/Object was Curse Poems, and Imitation/Inspirations. Read on…
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“Early” - Ellen Fitzgerald Skoro
I put your fingers in my mouth
while you are still asleep.
I hold them in my mouth
so still
and my tongue rolls softly
(I can’t help it)
like a fish rolling in water.
Your fingers taste like break
and the salty dirt of the day.
The cats scratch insistently
at our door,
chirping and trilling their hungry cries.
Wake up to me.
Wake up to me.
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from: In The Name of The Anger (Trinity’s Father)
by Mark Fleury
Of all the shadescapes
That make up the inside of my skull when clouds
Of thunder give the sky shape,
My favorite lightning begins and ends
In that our personalities complete
Each other’s source.
Liquid electricity lighting
Up the bottoms of the dark gray bulging
Almost made the clouds look solid.
So using tide as guide, I had to give in
A little to ebb’s flow of you in me
Toward the world.
Lean carved numbers: that One is different
Before the symbol’s added to it,
Together becoming two: how the Cross
Heals and straightens its broken back
To earn its wings. Four Sacred Directions:
Each is loaded: west, what Spirit/breath
Becomes to equal south; north: first/last name
Of my brother and/or sister to equal east.
Just like who I am for you
And who you are for me add up to
The destinations of all four points. Dusk just means
Inhale my prayer, exhale my life.
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Flamenco Variations - Bill Caperton
1.
Dark song, stones in the well
of your throat.
Pigeons rising in a fractal of wing.
About what?
Your feet describing a new geometry,
lost text resurrected,
small wheel.
I like the way your hem keeps climbing,
the singer claps in time.
Even now you spiral away.
Foot slam
I am trying to pull
Foot slam
your smell into my fists.
So this is feeling better?
Unreadable glyphs,
wire
bent to improve reception.
Outer
space
receding through the night.
2.
Slow dark dance, dry plains echo,
skinny birds throw their growing
shadows about.
About what?
Alley made of cobbles, wet
with rain, over which
you glide. Darkened doors,
six beers turning
my soft brains starry.
You keep slipping
foot slam
past the corners
foot slam
out of the grave,
back inside.
But we dance a while
in between, across oceans.
I walk with black hair in my throat.
Low
tide
rising through my chest.
