You
#12 in The Kali Poems
Notes
~ The voices belong to Patric Carver & his son Micah. The voices were accidentally recorded over the top of a song by Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter, entitled "Reckless Burning," resulting in a painfully sweet and sad combination.
~ Synchronicity extended through and beyond the atmosphere of the poem, because it came to light that the video image chosen for the poem originated from a bonfire around which Patric Carver danced.
~ Here is the original poem, #12 by Tiku Gauchan:
When I offer you an image of you as a child you laugh. I have scraped my bone marrows to mold this image of you. It wasn't easy. The eyes would not shut in peace—as if the heat under your eyelids would forever prop your eyes in a stare back at mocking mortal eyes. The hardest part was forming your skeleton—I dreamed you had scattered your bones, and arranged and rearranged them to create vortexes from within which the world would numb to a whisper. And now you laugh. Perhaps I am unaware that as you lived, you learned to breathe an air from beyond the binding that we live with. You dig your nails into the image to produce scars all over it. Then you dip it in the river, and when the water trapped in the scars glitter like many little moons, your laughter sounds like a call-and- response song between you and the spotted owls that are crying in the distance.
~ Synchronicity extended through and beyond the atmosphere of the poem, because it came to light that the video image chosen for the poem originated from a bonfire around which Patric Carver danced.
~ Here is the original poem, #12 by Tiku Gauchan:
When I offer you an image of you as a child you laugh. I have scraped my bone marrows to mold this image of you. It wasn't easy. The eyes would not shut in peace—as if the heat under your eyelids would forever prop your eyes in a stare back at mocking mortal eyes. The hardest part was forming your skeleton—I dreamed you had scattered your bones, and arranged and rearranged them to create vortexes from within which the world would numb to a whisper. And now you laugh. Perhaps I am unaware that as you lived, you learned to breathe an air from beyond the binding that we live with. You dig your nails into the image to produce scars all over it. Then you dip it in the river, and when the water trapped in the scars glitter like many little moons, your laughter sounds like a call-and- response song between you and the spotted owls that are crying in the distance.
posted 12 June 2014