Monday, April 7, 2014

Time And The Impossible







Time and The Impossible




I.

In the time of candy tears
of greenstick fractures of the heart,
when the wind was just
exactly what I thought it was
up to the last second,
when I stretched before the fire
that twirls its flames like batons,
it was easy to be firm, to know it all
and say it, to feel it all and play it
and on the sidewalk stage,
under the clapping trees
the cheering cars that passed
were  seeing
absolutely nothing.


II.

In the time
when the burqa of night
narrows to the thinning veil
through which old stars burn cold
as the eyes of a woman lost but daring
to be found,
I turn my head
to speak to you

of the past we didn't share,
of  the future we won't know,
of my longing deeper than the well
to stroke just once your ghostribbon hair,
to feel your hands alive down every bone
ripple in mine like the tide,
like the cat's wind that screams
in the april-soft trees--

light of my heart,
wind or stillness, bright or dun,
all the impossible things

 happen here
                   before the sun.




~April 2014








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Photographs copyright joyannjones 2012-2014

23 comments:

  1. I so love Part I. Clapping trees, cheering cars - fantastic.

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  2. You do this so much better than I can -- one can only belabor Time for so long before the weariness of history sets in. (Brevity truly IS the soul of wit, and poetry, and lingerie...) Yet the address here is so profoundly similar, is that what this tribe does? Carry on conversations with an Other, Beloved, God, or some inner Master, finding true north, pointing the way home along the next set of lines employed in the work? Some of that conversation must sound strange to others, like hearing someone tell their dream -- it meant so much to the bearer, but translates into something else, has a strange dialect and intonation -- the personal cannot help but intrude here, because that's what ends up piled on the refining fire. The yearning here is soooo familiar and yet happily strange, is a new concoction in this unique and individual speaker's voice. Such a fine (re)iteration of the primary terms of engagement. As if the words were just the mask through which the divine lover can speak. Anyhoo, I burble. Here's to your impossible, impossibly happy hour. Everything is pefectly braided and has the stride of the home run hitter who knows the sweet spot. You're doing one of these a day? Shazus.

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    1. Thanks, B. Yes, the quest is burned into us, and as I said at your place, I do believe now at the end of the road, that it can't be any other way. AFA length, these last two years I have practiced getting shorter, condensing, cutting, because while writing is always therapy for me, reading should be cathartic for others, and as you say, brevity helps connect. Still, it's all part of the big Edda, the Saga, the immense Book we try to illuminate page by page, and sometimes we must go the long road, as we should always go the road most our own. I love your point about telling the dream--how does one make it mean anything to the non-dreamer? I think you have to dig down into the archetypes, as you do so well, and find the bones we all share. Thanks agani for reading, and for getting it.

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  3. There's something of the wisdom perspective of age but age awake to herself and the longings of the heart and the exquisite ability to put all this to words. The last lines are perfect.

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  4. A wonderful contrast of the ages here...done without self-indulgence and superfluous melancholy. This will ring true to anyone who's managed to survive long enough to have worked through hope, disappointment and the ultimate balance gained only by age and perspective. There is such enviable clarity in this. Very fine writing.
    Steve K.

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    1. Thanks, Steve. Clarity is hard to come by, isn't it? I always feel I am groping for it in the dark.

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  5. Wonderful. A new favorite. The burqa night, the veil of early morning, especially memorable--a daring metaphor I thought given the assumed background of the poem, yet it works and segues into very beautiful lines about the unshared past and future, and the trust of a certain type of relationship found at such a juncture. Wonderful close, and wonderful how it turns --there's nothing new under the sun - into a completely different idea. (Not that you were referring to that.) Terrific. k.

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    1. Thanks, k. yes, i was of two minds(at least!) about the burqa, but in the end I kept it--it has so many layers I wanted, the hidden woman, the conventions of life that bind us, that make some feel secure, some held back, and the impossibility of penetrating the identity of a sky so modestly garbing herself--anyway, as always you pick up the relationships between the narration and the imagery. I very much appreciate the input.

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  6. There are some excellent images here. I am intrigued by candy tears and loved this: the burqa of night narrows to the thinning veil.

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  7. I could write at length about how each and every line moved me, how appealingly you have phrased each stanza, but today I will simply say how happy I am to be able to read your poetry, and grow with the experience you offer so freely.

    Magical.

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    1. Thank you Kerry. You know your words always mean much to me.

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  8. Incredible. this moves without halt, sunlight beyond the earth. 3 am works very well for you, i think, and for we readers who are now very much more alive for it.

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  9. It's impossible for a child to understand time, and it's impossible for an adult to forget it except maybe in elusive moments of half dream before waking. Sometimes those moments are magical, we don't want them to be smudged by consciousness, other times they're too heartbreaking to bear.

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  10. Beautiful. I didn't get it at all, but it was still beautiful.
    BTW...Do you watch The Vikings?
    That chick in your pic is One Badass Bitch!
    She finally got fed up with her prick husband's abuse, and
    she stabbed the bastard in his eye with a dagger...hehehe

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    1. Yes! My new role model, G. He was a prize bastard, wasn't he? I am getting the backstory through Netflix, as I just found out about it in the middle of this season. My husband generously(and wisely) says he likes it too. ;_)

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  11. Those last five lines could almost stand alone. I love the 'ghostribbon hair".

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  12. My new favorite and I love the "Ghostribbon hair"...I see I am not alone!
    Wondrous, Joy!

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  13. it was the second poem that did it for me...that whole opening sequence with the burqa....each image in it builds on the other....to the eyes....the past the future, the longing...that whole second poem...top notch stufff....

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  14. You....ack! I wish I'd written this! I would love to wander around inside your brain. (And I mean all this in the best possible, non-threatening or sociopathic way.)

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  15. Such wonderful imagery. You certainly can paint vividly with your words.

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  16. "when the wind was just
    exactly what I thought it was"

    ha, I have learned valuable lessons for supposedly "knowing" and "planning".

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  17. aaaahhhh. so good, Joy, for reasons better sounded than I could, above. the burqa / veil image is brilliant. ~

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  18. Catching up on all your NAPOWRIMO posts... your writing is always so vivid, so wonderful. A month of great work.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg