with the umbrage of these words, they fly

Tagged: Poetry, thoughts, writing ]]> http://starsrainsunmoon.com/2013/05/22/birds-tied/feed/ 1 marisancayuso http://starsrainsunmoon.com/2013/05/22/force/ http://starsrainsunmoon.com/2013/05/22/force/#comments Wed, 22 May 2013 13:33:51 +0000 Mari http://starsrainsunmoon.com/?p=7418 ]]> just here, rolls up
then crumples to a ruff
an entity no less than mine
singularly yellow, a flute note
maybe out there, beside you I’ll lay
baiting the first daylight, the usual drift
a tempo mourned by winds with no sign of time

silhouetting intervals

scarcely pointing

 at a floating mosque

Clasped
A punctuation

Altered to suit
Much of myself

With the same hand
The tonality of a pen

Sing to me, as I admire your boned alphabet
If this is astral, rattle my broken rest

Cruelly watching me weep, doing nothing instead

ever loved, ever chinned, for my eyes to see
I bring yet more trouble, outbidding those who touch you
unhurt by this weight upon me , I lean, and kiss your forehead
softly whispering words uncombed by thoughts, my usual mistakes
discovered, when I repeat your name

the hundreds of years, questioning, second guessing myself
merely steering, as you fake your death, diluted into a chorus
a grand opera, confusingly ascending the opposite way
a speech that provokes me, pressing your fingers across my chest

a sympathy much too apologetic, calling itself doctrines

Tagged: Faith, God, Poetry, religion, spirituality, writing ]]> http://starsrainsunmoon.com/2013/05/18/i-know-perfectly/feed/ 8 marisancayuso http://starsrainsunmoon.com/2013/05/18/in-the-dirt/ http://starsrainsunmoon.com/2013/05/18/in-the-dirt/#comments Sun, 19 May 2013 03:48:23 +0000 Mari https://marisancayuso.wordpress.com/?p=7357 ]]> blue wounds live
a tropical growth
denying animals
from speaking
to me

writing nonsense, turning this world red
I am transplanted, eating my heart in half
never remembering being tucked as a child

who was I – who am I

I am Jesus’s pet, squatting over dried stones

holding a rubber lily pretending it’s my soul
waiting for mother and father to rescue me
no one ever comes, I send postcards, they all return

I rock myself dying seven times

holding a facecloth against my private parts
editing they way I walk, the way I talk
campaigning a softer side,the dimmest of smiles
while God makes museums in my mouth, for everyone to see

His lungs dilate slowly, primitively suffering

I can’t rest, can’t sleep

Words consume me, I can heal him
I was a doctor, a nurse, I played the piano
Saving lives, why can’t I save his

Why am I so human, why can’t I contain this grief

I tip at his feet, they are swollen, calling for peace

They mumble light into my ears, it’s sour sound stains my clothes
Elevating my crumbled heart to shore, an Atlantic altar we call home