Poetry from The Resurrection of Gold

Written in light of my father’s death from pre-existing conditions. Proposed as a collection with the title: The Resurrection of Gold. 2022.

The Threshold

There was a place where I heard you breathe

cold against the morning light

You were minutes from leaving but still we counted in days

We begged the security guards to return you

We asked for passes

For printed pieces of permission

Like children not of yours but theirs

There was a place where I heard you breathe

It was climate controlled

And disinfected so that only light could reach your hands

Hold your hair

While we shuffled our feet in pairs

Waited our turn

Like good little children of the boxes

We begged.

between longing ratios

And the means to a rage

square roots of change

between death and imagination comes the glacial shimmer

We die together as siblings

born of the same womb great and large enough for all

We emerge from the urge

We come as blades of change

We come green as shoots

sharp with boundaries

We come and are taken in fistfuls

By this womb we are born together

In the grip, we flex.

All in time and time for all

The scythe of state and order are our teeth and claw

Our apex is a target

We are a constant plow and a harvest as long as song

We are cavestone and crested plateau

We are red and blue phases of light

We are painting fingers and painted eyes

We are abundant

Unique

Unified

This is our mystery that one of us dies

The others remain falling drops

Lifting flags, streaking fires of dawn

And sunsets

the tents of home

changeling rivers

We pour over the banks of seasons

We overtake in winds the curve of every shore,

No more than grains We are hurricane strength

in the littered flows of fancy

We are one and always many

We are the hateful children and the loving ones

We bow down to kiss and bite the toes of all we are

To become again ourselves

We have no nation except all nations

We have no tribe but every tribe

We have no coins but every coin

Gilds our fascinating cages

We swallow the seeds of ourselves

We birth our selves

Our saviors are our selves

Our heads are bobbing in our mirrors

Our spines are stretched from the higher ropes

With every death of you comes the death of me

With every birth of you comes the birth of me

With every dying father comes the burning son

With every body comes the choice

To be what is or to be what is willed

To be the superhuman or to be the pallid shadow

With every gold coin precedes the shell

With every pointed edge precedes the circle

With every revolution precedes the pain

This revolution is our evolution

This radiant day is an egg

This yolk is our truth

Eaten by us the snake

Scavenged by us the fox

This not our land or no land

This is the hyphae of our brown, pure blood

This is our net spread by Indra

This is our new world over and over

Screaming blue eagles

We press the issue

Every death is our birthright

Every body ours to hold

To burn or to bury to mint in effigy

the gold of our dreams is our blood,

Diamonds are made through time and pressure

This is our everneveralways

Becoming. Our myths of forever.

This is the immigrants plight

Our refugee’s cutlass

Making through the meadows

Gripped in purple shadows

This is the owl smoked to death

Singed at the angle most pointed,

This is wisdom hunted and hiding never

Always in plain sight, often ignored

This is the death that we needed

This is the vine in waiting

This is in vino veritas

Coming home in lockdown

Come down from the clouds

With fists full of blaze

This is the remix of the raze.

This is the violin sample

scratch against the plastic

grit

Our oceans are full of salt

Our oceans are full of brimming to the hilt of us

Spilling to the dusk of us

This is the song we sing

Not coddled In ivy

Taking over the palace

The Martian atlas is our ransom

This is our map of layers

We are more than diamond

We are hearts of emeralds

We are sapphire white and blue,

Glittering in the wake of the sky

We are pearls chosen

round

We are rubies red, and garnet shining

fire

The color of blood spills down our thighs

The color of us spills into our bodies

The turtles swim as us

Away from us

We are the death of us

The extended shell of us

We are the negative hate of us

We are love all the way down to the sulfur

pits

We are the mirror of pride

We are the pipes of the organ

Playing it one last time

We are spit to shine

Polished in brass,

crazing the glass of the churches

We are the cliff upon which all of us pilgrim

Plunge into the waters

And out by the watchful heron

We swim.

We are the birds we pluck

Feather by feather we bald,

Eating ourselves as carrion

Delicious, nutritious, this side of warm.

We are the death and our resurrection

We are what kills the masters we create

Swallowed whole we are showers of glitter

trails in the celestial land

One step for us, one step for all of our kind.

One step for us, one step on all our kind.

Our bacterial mothers

Our viral fathers

Our trinity of archeological beings

Our extended family beings, meanings

Our particle selves

colliding

Our symbiosis

in angles,

Whole Us

With words lunging

Ideas blooming

Us whole and discreet

With viscose kisses of slime

We are all that we ever were

Yet

In the death of one I feel the end

Tender as heaven’s silk

wrapping tendrils of will

We are bound to our kin-lit dreams

walls tighten in tender fire

To our invisible sparks

To this we love

To we we cry

Deliver us

Deliver us

From the spinning of yarn

To this we submit

To this we are collared

To this we kiss the end of each love

To this the spider of time

Does weave us with a loom as large as our eyes.

When a parent dies the child inside is orphaned

And then the child rises

pure as Aphrodite

powerful as Athena

Aleph the Sequel

There is no beginning and there is no end

There is only the story of all stories

All of which will someday be lost

And started

Until the end

we

Are

Electric air

we are magnetic thread

wet.

This is our day of breaking,

up, out and inside.

We are made of time.

Poppets of fate

Supple as velveteen babes

We are the old that will return as the young

We are the amnesia that makes this fun.

When one of us dies, few lament

The parent, the lover, the Self.

in the half empty service

When one of us is born again, legions shout from their pulpits

while tears of joy and grief waltz

on a naked breast

Freedom is ours

Heaven is here

Our savior is now

The womb of the dust and the spirals,

to the dust, and the never ending bang.

The rats and the tigers,

The lilies and the fragrant roses

The womb of the mother is lustful for more,

For the hum of the colors she spews

Volcanic, clearing of the canvas

Brilliant, thunderous shards of arms outstretched

we reach out to her our mother, our monster

to our stormy mirror.

Our mines, our self driving slavery,

Let you go.

One breath for you, one last breath for all.

We are full, always ripe, through life and death

We mark ourselves and point

saying

This Is the exit to gold

Here

No here

No yes

Please stay

Here

No Yes

Find me here.

Child, sister, friend, life.

This is her, and him

standing in their habitat

This is them, a tussle of empty vessels

wrestling in the gaseous mix

This is us, clenched in the speechless game

This is seven billion sets of tears

Falling into plains of notes

Slipping into icy joy

Crashing into the compass of origin

Deep as nothing in excess

Desired as a hero’s fleece

These are the highs and lows of absolutely nothing

a driftwood of goodbye

a siren’s buoyant salutation,

ringing through the ears of a whale

through the layers of spinning wheels

This is the seduction

of the luminous stillness

the moment of the Waving through the noise,

Come, I love you.

And together we die.

You in the bed.

Me in the eyes.