Rothko Chapel: a meditation

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like stepping into a still pool

deep in a primal cave—

you slip into this silence:

 

the light breathes, a liquid

luminescence, in slow

arrhythmic breaths,

 

and you are changed—

you see what you want

to see; desire, fear, hope

 

flicker across the surface

like faces of the dead,

hesitant and fleeting

 

until you see only your self

stripped of all significance

 

(July 2, 2018)

Minnows

fish-pedicure

 

Metaphor turns all

to itself. I am no more

the subject, than I

am the object. Like Delphic

seers speak god’s voice,

the poem moves through me—

changing itself like air

moving slowly across grass.

 

As a child I’d dangle

my feet in Clark’s creek.

Minnows nibbled my toes

cautiously; I’d sit still

as god listening to prayers

happy in my boredom.

 

(June 6, 2018)

Supplication

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My mouth is my wound,

a stigmata of broken teeth

and words. My tongue’s slashed

like ribbons flapping

in the mountain’s wind.

My prayers snap violently

into the icy air’s silence.

 

I don’t know what to do

now: swallow my own

blood, and drown; or spit

my life onto the ground

to call forth a bitter

beast which I fear

will devour me whole?

 

(May 11, 2018)