Awaken O 'Book of Dust'¹

A small child playing on the floor

favorite toys scattered around

one by one he picks them up

with eager fumbling hands

touching, tasting, and sniffing

intimately he fondles them

briefly each occupies his infant mind

a sudden shaft of sunlight invades

illumines an ever present swirling dust

compelling fascination grips his daimon² soul

this perpetual dance of particles

reveals an opulent world

standing on toddler legs, his first step is taken

desiring this alter-existence of dust, to awaken

What Is The Dark

Dark matter, dark energy, what are these

substances and energies unknown

principalities and powers unseen?

How then do they invade our consciousness

how do we perceive the imperceptible?

What science, what religion, can revel

truth without error in humanity

from beyond the cosmic pale

beyond the realm of known reality?

Who gave us these alluring allusive dreams

those drum beats of calculable cadence

beating all relative time into our being

this dark of endless light

this light of endless night?

Being young men, as young men dream

we question every truth thought

of every ancient, cosmic stream

Seeing by plurality

our perspective ever changing

revels some reality

by some illusions

Being old men, as old men dream

we question our questions

of life's immortal scheme

Seeing by blindness

the dark is light's illuminati

contemplating existence

by some allusions

The opening line; so many ways, to begin, to say...
Something of reality, or fantasy, in you today...
Be it fact or fiction, truth, lies or legend...
Make it grab my heart and slam my soul...
And, demand my mind's conjugate attention...
Tell me everything, or tell me nothing...
But tease me into reading, and believing...
Then, take me on a journey, in you, by your words...
How I love them your words...
Without an accounting, or a rational reason...
What has love ever to do with reason?
What rationality has passion, but passion?
Worry not where we will end this passage so fine...
Let your soul drift where it will, find an opening line.
LOVE:)
T... Many men/women dream of a perfect opening line; most fail to remember the dream. You can do better than most, when you need/want to, I think. Thank you dear heart; now I have another 'night sonnet', and something worth blogging today.
always yours,
SW

From: T
To: S W
Date: May 24, 2009 3:42 PM
Subject: RE: new poem


thank you! thanks for reading the poem, and writing to me so eloquently about it. i am so glad that my misery and torment entertain and move people. ha ha. i am going to start work on a new one today. we'll see how that goes. i'm still waiting for an opening line to fall into my lap. =)
have a great holiday weekend.

xoxo T

From: S W
To: T
Date: May 24, 2009 11:20 AM
Subject: new poem


I love it when you send me to my dictionary...the knowledge of my ignorance, like a good hard slap in the face, woke me up while I was reading your new poem - the first thing I did today, besides stumble to the jon/coffee/computer.
Think i sent you a blank message by mistake...hitting the wrong key at the wrong time, shit happens to me from time to time, also. Well, anyway, now that i am more fully awake, seeing the preternatural poet soul that you are, i can never neglect to read you. You do jolt and startle me, at times, with your sharp words of bittersweet sluttiness... contrasting the sweet idealistic innocence of Love's emotions with the reality of undeniable, unquenchable, lust. All of which is good for me as a writer/person, making me think better, i think. Always a pleasure to read you...your pretorian poet's heart falling into infinities passion play of pleasant pain is fascinating, compelling me to taste, touch, and see, more. Have a great day, Honey, LOVE:) SW

new poem by T

"THE FRAGILE OVERTURE OF AN ENDLESS GOODBYE

I found a gum wrapper in my coat pocket today, left over from the piece of gum I was chewing the last time I saw you. I haven’t worn this coat since that night. No expression, no grand farewell. What should have been as monumental as a jump off a cliff was a feeble embrace in a parking garage. Don’t just stand there holding the words for ransom in your head. Don’t just stand there when you know the silence beats me black and blue. And this morning a song on the radio. The one about eye freckles and someone far away. Memory is a swarm of bees in my chest. My tears fall upside down now. But whose fault is that when I can’t turn my back to you? I’m your pretermitted Juliet, and you, my absentee Romeo of all time. I can’t just leave, or I’ll take away the part of me that you should feel. The part of me you are afraid to touch. The part of me that could melt your frostbitten heart. There is no way to say this delicately. It is the reason I kept the superheroes around. They opened wide their hearts to me and I in turn opened wide my legs. The truth is in the willing. The screaming keeps the sky from falling. Batman never closed his eyes when I fucked him and Spiderman liked to slip his fingers up my skirt while we were napping. Men unafraid to jump off cliffs and better yet unafraid to climb them. I gave it all up. For what? A second-rate friend and an uptight lover. I wish you would have driven me like a car. I wish you would have sunk your teeth into my flesh and sucked the marrow from my bones. I wish you would have called me once in a while and said darling how was your day. I have come too far to start moving in reverse. Notwithstanding. There’s always a catch, isn’t there? Notwithstanding. The catch is the word still. All by itself, written like this: Still. I don’t mean motionlessness. There is constant movement in this mess. I mean even now. Exhibit A: Even now, amid the frustration and pain, there are a million possibilities. Exhibit B: Even now, as I crumple the gum wrapper in my hand, those possibilities are dying slow deaths. Exhibit C: Even now, you’d only notice my absence if I came back. Ad infinitum. Neglect begets loss. I am not your mother. I won’t carry that suitcase. You could have bet your inheritance on me. I have never been a fickle girl. The sun may rise in the east but it sets right outside my window now. I can see the ocean and the bridge from here. My tears fall upside down but my eyelashes have compasses and in all directions I can transcend. Into the garbage the gum wrapper goes. I don’t ever want to hear that song again. Not for as long as I live."

Tiffanie Debartolo