Oriana IvyI am standing still forever
in the amber of late August, in a rusty seaside landscape a rooster crowing and crowing -- and a drunken Russian sailor, weeping: See, you too don’t know anyone in this town. I am always leaving, leafing in unending autumn -- poplars toss as to a beggar coins of wind for luck -- parents, grandparents walking through bombed cities -- on missing graves they lay a wreath of smoke. I’m arriving: Go ahead, squeeze the lemon, this is America. A stranger greeted by strangers, I am always waving, smiling. I’m preparing for the future: I dissect rats and brains. Stiff with formaldehyde, a rat’s tail like an antenna sticks out of my purse. I receive invitations: Please come in your national costume -- But I’m standing still forever, a young girl about to step across the world -- my name trembles on the nervous loudspeaker. My name crackles, and I don’t crackle back. |
Poets and DreamersSan Clemente, CASo we travel on earth seeking the terrain of Poetry, walking through wilderness and empty landscape or visiting those ancient sites like Dholavira in far-western Gujarat, or Mykenai in the Greek Peloponnese, or the Arawak campsite on eastern Carriacou in the Grenadine Windward Isles, pursuing that authenticity of experience in a form of antique material reality... Kevin McGrath 🐚Yoga of Poetry “Dare to live the life you have dreamed." |
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