To begin ...

As the twentieth century fades out
the nineteenth begins
.......................................again
it is as if nothing happened
though those who lived it thought
that everything was happening
enough to name a world for & a time
to hold it in your hand
unlimited.......the last delusion
like the perfect mask of death

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Mark Weiss: “Glass Palace,” 17 Poems


ADVICE 

What you need, he said,
is another trip to the edge
and beyond. 

And I thought he was joking.
 

EASE OF MOTION 

This fantasy that has deluded many,
that you could open the door and walk
into another place,
just like that.
 

AMONG THE BULRUSHES 

It must have happened all the time, a woman
giving a child to the river. But the misery, to think
that chance could better care for it—the conditions of famine,
slavery and such—and the fantasy, that the child, rescued,
would come to recognize itself
at the last moment, and free the tribe
from its wretchedness. It must have been that commonplace
to become their story.
 

A MESSAGE TO THE GODS IN THE BLOOD OF SACRIFICE 

“See, we have horses.
Life is good.”
 

A SIMILE 

That red red rose is like my love:
thorns below and thorns above.
 

ADAM AND EVE 

It's the snake, they think,
that renders tolerable
this insipid garden.
 

SIREN 

Moving her legs slowly against the water,
folding it.
In gelid light
small tufts
on either side.
 

SURVIVAL 

Shock of the ocotillo's red spear
against the creosote's green and the yellow flowers
of brittlebush. Birds
melodically proclaim
there's a stranger here, while insects,
wild with delight,
bid me welcome as a source of liquid. 

And the bees
suck at the mud where the stream
had overflowed its banks.
 

THE KING 

Oedipus the Riddle Solver becomes the answer
to the plague's question:
“What sleeps with his mother
and murders his father?
 

EXILE 

The pace of change being what it is
the homeland you dreamed of
is no longer there.
Like Troy to the Trojans, no stone
left as a marker.
 

FOCUS 

Whose greatest worry was to paint the petal
just so. 

A decent restraint,
when the moon seems the largest thing.
 

HIS WILL 

Stunned into numbness,
numbed
into silence. 

Who could have imagined
any of it?
 

A SIMILE 

Tastes like rabbit, the fox thinks,
slinking from the hen-house.
 

HORSE SENSE 

There's many a slip
twixt the clop and the clip. 

We call it luck
to die by increments.
 

A STORY 

Dressed for the bridal bed
her shawl became the sky, her gown
the sea.
 

GLASS PALACE 

I imagined a broken glass thing
inside me. 

My grandmother had a clock
built of mirrors in the form
of a palace. In my first
memory it was broken
and dangerous.
Lovely, the way it glinted. 

This was the broken thing
I had imagined.
 

AND SO 

You may go on to other things
now that you understand the mysteries. 

The daily miracle and the daily curse. 

Something about the dance
or stagger
of anxiety.
 
a note in place of a  poetics.  Put two things next to each other and a third thing happens. Sometimes a series of short poems create their own world, but fragmented, like reflections on shards of glass. (M.W.)

1 comment:

Ed Baker said...

here... I corrected the spelling (a bit) from the letter that I sent you: here, minus the art. Maybe Mark Weiss
would appreciate seeing the?):



"your Mark Weiss’ post of poems ‘touched’ my Me….
entirely. Especially his

Adam & Eve & (his) Focus.

and then the note that follows…. ‘hits the nail precisely on it s head':

"and a third thing happens. Sometimes a series of short poems create their own world,”

when I get into a certain “place” in my Brush Mind”


(as he does in that Adam and Eve piece)
I
every single time that
when I get “suck” with nothing to (further) say or draw, I put in a snake…

as in these: