Category: Mythology


Redon’s Black Pegasus 1909

I ascended to Olympus moments after my violent birth at Perseus’ hand. Watching as my mother’s blood still pooled in the virile sea foam. Redon painted me black, as if every cell was kissed by the dark snakes of my mother’s Underworld. Purified by Zeus every hair and feather flashed prismatic white. I became a creature of the sky. I vowed with my first thought to be wild, unrestrained imagination in flight. My wing words would transcend the song of earth, achieving the sublime. But all this was long ago, before I saw her. She was my soul, my golden bridle, my incomparable Sappho. The music of her poetry lured me earthbound, taming me.

an imploding singularity
awash in Dionysian pleasure
counterpoint to my Apollonian spirit
she expands and contracts to infinity
in fractals of complexity
my inward vision turns
to embrace her

she arcs in spiraling parabolas
a bloom on a beautiful morning
within this vale of soul-making,
temporal and inescapable,
all must be endured
an intoxicating creative tension
birthing poetry

Redon Pegasus

Within the sphere of our epiphanal love, gentle waves broke upon feverish shores. She called me divine, beckoned me close but was overcome with feeling and fell mute, trembling. My spirit deprived her eyes of vision and my thunder overwhelmed her ears. I was the cloud bearing fruitful rain, imagination in all its real powers of elevation. I was the bridging symbol. Together we spun the synthesis of polarities with equal dignity. I vowed to bear her to the celestial heights. There, transformed to stars, our ill-fated forms would no longer cause our suffering.

as we rise she slips
caught in gravitation’s pull
heart shatters as I cannot
break her fall

fragments of her legacy
are buried in pulpwood coffins
(burned by papal decree)

the bow and the lyre
torn apart at the hands of the gods
we are forever separated

I was granted
constellation’s majesty –
from my unfathomable heights,
dream world of eternal ideas,
a lone feather falls
to anoint her earthly tomb

Pegasus 1a

bone. spirit. blood. hoof (and wing). right ascension 23 h. asterism’s geometry. points in the northern sky. declination +20°. heartbeat transmuted. Einstein’s Cross quasar (new chambers of the heart, detached). encompassed in a canopic jar (supermassive black hole). quadrant NQ4. fusion’s glory heaven’s prize. area 1121 sq. deg. (7th). creative waters vaporized (extrasolar HD 209458 b) . unity and multiplicity. depth psychology paradox. Stephan’s Quintet collides.

Notes: You can find out more about Sappho here: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/318 and read the myth of the Pegasus at these sites: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pegasushttp://www.pegasusproducts.com/myth.html. The subtitle comes from a painting by Christopher Le Brun which is at the Tate: http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/le-brun-dream-think-speak-t03454. Please join me today for my first time hosting Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft at dVerse Poets Pub http://dversepoets.com/2012/10/04/meeting-the-bar-postmodern-prose/ today at 3ET. I’d love to see you there!

Angel of Oblivion

 

Victor de Schwanberg/Science Photo Library

Victor de Schwanberg/Science Photo Library

I traverse an
infinite divide
divining an
immanent encounter

[I stop breathing]

there is stillness

stabbing pain
radiates from
my sternum

I hear the
scratching
blue pen
across paper
which is always
disembodied
from these
phantom lines

[silent wings]

images that console

today I
remember
the future

[my life is a black box]

decomposing
multiverse born
of a supermassive
black hole

I exist in a
quantum state
ever approaching
an event horizon

you observe me
fixed in the
fabric of spacetime
death mask photograph

relativity commits
its heinous crimes
thieving my life
through an illusion
of immortality

[body bag encasing stardust]

temporal dimension
limits the possible
each choice assembles
molecules of tomorrow

ghost projections of
shattered worlds

[I never know what it means]

causality slips sideways –
on alternating days I die

or write poetry
chords of enduring agony
atoms of memory disfigured
until there is nothing left
but my intimacy with oblivion

[I await the blessed kiss of an immanent being]

Daedalus & His Muse

Olivier de Sagazan

Olivier de Sagazan

for David Chamberlain, Jr.
(inspired by his series of
Labyrinth poems)

here in the wilderness
encountering my fierce nature
thoughts lignify into woodcuts
thousands of barren landscapes
inculcating a melancholic picture

odd trees with finger thin branches
veiled in snow, grasping at the sky
painting blue stars in an empty heaven
I mourn what is irretrievably lost
something raw and enigmatic
written in my cathexis of longing

awash in an inaccessibility of meaning
I writhe sideways like an angry cobra
forming chalk outlines of the labyrinth
liquid mind streaming in slumber
an emulsion of ether, untethered

sands around me shift, amnesiac
creating fragments of identity masks
that reveal dreamtime spent in a desert
chasing my Minotaur shadow

there in the darkness I meet a Seer
who prophesizes my true nature
chained, I walk with two spirits
sorrow and pain expressing
nightshades of unborn ruin

I am merely the center-point
King Theseus of this lost tribe
ragged wanderer in exile
painting symbols in blood
a sediment of iconography
upon the walls of history

until Ariadne arrives like a mirage
finds me in the dreamworld maze
haunting the zero hour, engaged
in games of ritualistic sacrifice
and deftly cauterizes my wound

her sacred arts of magic
secure my inerasable love
offering an orgiastic thread,
triune passport to paradise
a string of beautiful words
creating an utterly pure tale
to reconstruct the mythic life
of my glorious and terrible wings

Wikipedia Commons

Wikipedia Commons

In memoriam for Dave King

‘I am writing a novel
in which no one speaks . . .
every one of my characters
moves like a shadow . . .
As of now, chapters ten,
and to a lesser extent,
maybe, eleven,
seem quite unpenable.’
written by Dave King, excerpts
from WAR AND PEACEfulness

I. Alasdair MacIntyre and Isaiah Berlin will engage in a civilized debate of moral philosophy and value pluralism in the divinely lit library of the hereafter

while it seems improbable
that the two will ever
arrive at the Answer,
hidden within the firestick,

their agreeable natures
ensure a kind exchange
and mutual respect
(as ours did)

II. Postmodern experimentalism encounters a fine intellect and a dashing wit

not only did he meet the bar
he vaulted it rather spryly

III. Anything can happen

unfortunately, it often does
cancerously and suddenly

IV. Stendal, Joyce, Hypatia, Riker, and Woolf toast his life by writing an eternity of allusions

words are like magic,
scintilla, igniting the soul’s spark
Plato’s divine spark longing
to unite with ever more
transcendent forms of beauty

Hypatia approaches the door
only those who’ve transitioned
may enter, opening a gateway,
releasing the fiery cries of seraphs

(I will meet you in the liminal
threshold between your faith
and my fractured metaphysics)

her radical eye encounters his pneuma
perhaps a whisper of which
will live a little here in the poem
as an act of remembrance

V. The consummate performance artist mourns the poet

you walked alongside us
desiring a dream of arctic skies
and ice floes captured in verse

now silk enrobed traces of your artistry
float by, a music, ever passing
as your gentle voice is lost to the wind

Book with Wings by Anselm Kiefer

Book with Wings by Anselm Kiefer

‘The aim of science is to make difficult things understandable
in a simpler way; the aim of poetry is to state simple things
in an incomprehensible way. The two are incompatible.’*

I exist in the abstract vector (impure) space
between the mortal and the divine
within this night of broken glass
where there are no mutually exclusive states

in a profound paradox encapsulated
by a series of spectral lines
superluminal small heavens (within)
embodying the nature of light

restless remnant of a tattered whole
(oracle) of four dimension spacetime notation
carrying a universal wound of broken stories
in my native tongue, mathematics

imaginary world of leaden transformation
an enchanted map leading me on a path
between genius and madness
antimatter colliding in a book with wings

(space & time)/(momentum & energy)
coexisting potential alchemical matrices
uncertain relations in superposition
oscillating ash of solitude and union

*Paul Dirac

Sun Feast

Jade werejaguar mask of the Olmecs

Jade werejaguar mask of the Olmecs

mercurial volcanic ash
disintegrates the constructs
of permanence,
scarring the landscape

wind collides with the world tree
marking the cardinal directions
we are shaken about
beaten by life and one another

untethered from identity
in the borderlands of cyberspace
I became a shape shifting supernatural,
an apparitional avatar

arboreal hunter, spirit guide,
constellations imprinted upon my pelage
I prowl the numinous threshold
to the home of the spirits

ravens guard the branches
draw the edges of death
scream warnings and watch me
bloody my pelt on thorns

wounds of my animal form
create caves to the underworld
I am wise and foolish, powerful and weak
never capable of being otherwise

psychic scars form the light
witnessed through the veil
I reveal my ancestors and progeny
my dream time chameleonic nature

jungle dwelling dangers
find exorcism in expression
liberate my vulnerability
inspire your intentions

you coax me from the treetops
dispel my debt of gratitude
salve my Godsmitten paw
unite us in shamanic ecstasy

Jaguar (public domain)

Jaguar (public domain)

Transmission Lost

Fallen Angel by Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1981

Fallen Angel by Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1981

Music by David Chamberlain, Jr., poetry by Anna Chamberlain, and the lyric ‘all we ever wanted to say was chased erased and then blown away’ is from the Janelle Monae song, Many Moons. Hit play above, this is a spoken word piece.

Creation

Seraphina (Oil, mixed media 2013)

Seraphina (Oil, mixed media 2013)

within this country of perpetual surprise
she inhabits the seven storied house

atop the mountain she writes our fates
illuminated pages in her golden notebook

stepping from the root of the cosmic tree
guiding souls into the world

she invested painting with the power
to circumscribe my time

a metronome marking the elaborate
science of observation, the creation
of self, phrasing, without pause,

these excruciating and ecstatic moments
in brushstrokes saturated with the
pathos of a portrait in blue

my transgression from tradition
metalanguage of spontaneity,
inspired inscriptions

perhaps the mother of cradles,
beside this lake of milk,
will open the portal of being

breathe life into another
fulfilling my desire to embody

Ajysyt, birth giver,
cup gently your warm hands,
form an offering bowl

There I Met a Storm

she turns the emperor on his head
as the sun penetrates the forest canopy
I listen for the sounds
wild reparations offered for all the blood

scanning for (in situ) signs of life
a heartbeat pumping in searing words
brazenly on a hot pressed page
wood transmuted, only resurrected with her name

surface so smooth that everything slides
liquid nitrogen cooled tongues
slipping from cottonmouths
stained only by washes
of colorful trauma

mineral night rising, a phosphorescent outcry
burning chemical fire layer by layer
until our skin becomes as
ineffectual as the paper
she wrote the truth upon

hush imbued atmosphere descends,
a pernicious intent
poet tells me, ‘every angel is awful’
not mine, lord,
not mine

I saw her at the dawning
and in the glimmer of his oceanic love
her joy lighting candles
in the holy of holies
that day I stood in the temple
in the land of the sandsky
(where I never could have entered before)

murmuring supplications
with an apotropaic wand
against the inevitable dark

secret cinematic sounds delivered
in the tone of teenage apathy
Video Games plays in the acoustic hollow
of a phoenix’s breastbone
an echoic pleading
one skin to another

I held her in the birthing
and in the slow murder of life
in her incandescent light, her
dénouement, her breath infusing
my own, whispering paeans,
singing sighs

Notes: Every Angel is Awful is a book by the French poet, Martine Broda and Video Games is a song by Lana Del Rey.

wolverine

wolverine

I dreamed the animals
brought forth each character
I sang the incantations
brought forth your stories
I tamed the mountain
brought forth every peak
I courted the moon
brought forth her light

solitary trickster
intelligent fool
my antics amuse
my ferocity quickens
my predator’s blood,
front facing eyes echo
your passions and appetites

I contain no remorse
but birth it
I show no mercy
but inspire it
I will nothing . . .
create and destroy
give and negate
in the hidden shrine
of the Taiga

tearing caribou flesh
hunting the weak
hunting the strong
I am the shaman
of the North

carrion feeder
I fight the bear
I fight the wolves
I traverse the cold
immense miles of cold
silent ice worlds
disturbed only by
the terrible cries
of this impulsive creature

Kuekuatsheu
kway-kwah-choo
Carcajou
koo-a-koo-ott-soo
say my name in
my presence
let your tongue
raise your voice to
the northern lights

within the shaking tent
we contact the spirits
my Innu atanukanas
sing songs of a people
sing songs of everything
I brought into being

Note: This poem was written in response to Victoria’s prompt at dVerse Poets Pub on anaphora poems and utilizes anaphora and epiphora. The title and poem refer to a very famous poem, The Tyger!, by William Blake.