Posts for June 24, 2021 (page 4)

Category
Poem

We’ll Always Have June or Writing Is Something I Use To do

i useta love
you
i think

i know you
made me feel
things that made me
try to claw
through 4 decades of skin
crack already cracked bone
pull that heart grenade
from my chest
and squeeze
until the dripping stopped
or exploded one

funny how a pen is always involved

but was that love?

or was it
just me 
wearing a mask 
pretending
that feeling good 
was what would come 
when the beatings
stopped?
 
either way
when it’s quiet
i remember you fondly
almost having moments in which 
i miss you

but don’t expect a letter


Category
Poem

Boss

He apologized.
You thought you’d never hear it.
You will pay for this.


Category
Poem

Tardemah

Tardemah

…Abram falls into the dread of a deep sleep called tardemah [Genesis 15]…Adam fell into a tardemah when God removed his rib and built him a wife.… Now Abram falls into a tardemah so that a prophecy can be extracted from him….What links Abram’s tardemah to that of Adam? — Rabbi Daniel Nevins

I.
The harmony of the garden,
God’s dream for humans,
His masterwork
                                 Disrupted,
Flawed by something he seems
To have overlooked—
                                        Loneliness.
Adam’s complaint
After the naming project’s complete,
None suitable, no one to share
                                                          Companionship.
The solution: the deep sleep of
Tardemah, proto-anesthesia
For a “ribectomy,” key to human
                                                              Partnership.
II.
Abram and prophecy,
Legacy of a dangerous friendship:
El-Shaddai, mountain deity—
                                                      Nomad
Companion, wilderness tribal god,
Partner in the trek from Ur,
Purveyor of promises
In doubt when old age denies
                                                        Progeny.
Is to err divine? Or Chaldean?
Ur’s pilgrim, would-be
                                          Patriarch
Questions the pledged
                                         Inheritance
Unknown, impossible,
‘Til in tardemah-sleep,
                                          Covenant,
Name-sharing, like old Adam’s
Project, power shared,
Split carcasses portend
Centuries of suffering,
Pogrom and Shoah,
History of blood-
                                 Promise,
And in the sleep and darkness—
                                                            Faith.
III.
My family shares a hidden legacy,
Exiles and transplants and immigrants,
Grandpa Jacob Friedmann’s secret story,
Orphaned, christened into a new covenant—
                                                                                   Ancestor
Whose unknown tale of persecution,
Kulturkampf, the shared narratives
Blending into the German melting-pot
On the Ohio, Over-the-Rhine in Cincinnati.
Lists of names in the old Bible,
Baptismal ledgers,
Weddings,
Graves—
                   Us,
With only faces,
Eyes and foreheads
Repeating in generations,
Carrying the hidden seeds of
The ancient nomad and his faith-
                                                              Gift
To unwrap and pass on—
                                                  Family
Born in myth and mystery—
                                                     Tardemah.


Category
Poem

Whatever May Be

Whatever may come to be,
Let it fall squarely upon me.
Let it be that I should not find myself lost,
That I should build no road paved with good intentions.
If some angel should tempt me to change my disposition;
I should know immediately I have been taken.

I hope to not find old age gracefully welcoming,
But that it should come with hesitation and yearning.
As the English language welcomed me after my birth,
When it pulled me the flames of the hearth.


Category
Poem

Anger

There is too much noise.
I want to scream, to yell,
Shut up, Shut up, Shut up
But my mouth is shut
A tight-pressed line keeping
A wildfire on the inside.

My heart is not in my throat
It is pounding too hard,
Secure in my chest,
No,
The weight at the back of my throat
Is not my heart.

My teeth are bared
Filled with the taste of dirt and pain
Of all the words I want to say.
Divinity has made a home in my veins,
It whispers
“Rip,
Tear,
Burn”
I wonder how far my bones can bend
Before they break.

Your petty apologies did not save you
Your threats of violence did not forsake you
You are lucky that I carry
The mercy of a mother in my soul.


Category
Poem

Sine Waves (#2700 Poem)

(—The first for one anthology

or capstone to 99 past?)
 
My mind is plunged
into the chamber of creation
to find a great inner essence
scribbling out several dozen poems
in several dozen days.
Eventually
at the plateau,
I stare off in a daze:
 
Then,
the long dark
and 
aimless stumbling 
like the last 26 times
 
Then,
there is absolution
but I choose
to continue
burning out as fast
as I inhumanly can
into
the next long dark—

Category
Poem

What I Want to Remember

What were the songs my father whistled
under his breath, what drove his heartbeat?
Isn’t that tune floating now in my bloodstream?
Didn’t he write a poem for me when I was just a kid
about my dreaming of a hope chest and didn’t
I look at him as though he spoke a foreign
language?  Mama said she’s not old enough
yet, and of course I was greener than
the magnolia in the front yard,
my soul unsprouted, though it’s clear
to me now I was growing toward
the strong trunk of independence
and not toward a man and a white dress.


Category
Poem

A Burrow

A quiet joy evergrowing in volume,

As bees shaking off the smoke,
Waking first with a hum, and then a symphony of buzzing and bumbling;
All full day of flowers and sunshine ahead.
Shrouded from the day,
You nestle into me (not quite gentle),
Like a burrow for the winter,
And I wrap around you (half hunched over),
Like a favored blanket in the evening.
 
Ever drifting towards sweeter dreams.

Category
Poem

Broad Shoulders

Growing up,
my father said my broad shoulders
meant that I would be responsible,
dependable, strong.
Good for carrying, caring
for others.  

He was not wrong.  

So I accept this new responsibility
with as much grace as I can,
hoping that when it is my turn 
someone will do for me,
what I am doing for you.
And hoping their shoulders
will be broad enough, too.


Category
Poem

normal?

paper invitations to birthday parties
texts about send-offs and get-togethers
drives with best friends and loud bass
outdoor or indoor vaccination card dinings
family trips down south and out west

(but is this still normal?)

parents are still signing those papers
pets are getting lethargic and older
hobbies becoming chores when i suffer
friends moving on after summers
people changing, trying to become better

(if it wasn’t, it is now.)