oh and DKM – her food, crochet, knitting and stuff

Toesday

Taking a snooze

Peek-a-boo toes


Celebrate Poetry Month


Grace
by John Logan

We suffer from the repression of the sublime.
—Roberto Assagioli

This artist’s sculptured, open box of mahogany
(ivory white inside) is strung
with vertical and horizontal layers of mus-
ical wires that sing when struck, and bits of bright garnet
rock tremble where they intersect.
These gems flash in the candle light,
and before me all my beloved childhood looms up
in the humming levels, each one deeper than the other.
I tip this sculpted box and my child laughs and moves there
in his own time. You’ll hear me moan:
Oh, you will hear me moan with all the old, sure pleasure
of what I’d thought I’d lost come back again.
Why, we have never left our home!
On the leather lace fixed about my neck, blue, yellow,
red and black African trading beads begin to glow:
their colors all weave and newly flow
together like translucent and angelic worms.
And beneath these my neck is as alive with gentle,
white bees as is a woman’s breast.
Beside and in the light river
figures come on stage exactly
as they are needed. I tell you, I conduct my own
act! A boy poses so youthfully,
so beautifully, his slim arms a graceful arrow
over his small, brown head, and he dives!
Limbs and body push supple as a whole school of fish.
And then his vacant place is taken by another—
a man dressed in denim and in boots of red rubber.
He is wrenched from the shore and pulled
through the fresh, bright stream by a kid
who tugs on one of his hands and holds a fishing rod.
And, too, this man is dragged in the opposite direction
by a red dog on a leash shaking his wet
great coat into the stippled light.
That man just sashayed: he zigzagged
this way and that. The man is me!

A bluejay does a dance for us!
He hops beside a tree that rises inside of me.
He half-glides, his iridescent,
blue back striking like a brush
of Gauguin on the bare canvas of the air and then:
he flies! leaving behind him a small, perfect feather,
which I find shades from blue to brown—
my brother’s color into mine.
Now in the space the diver and the booted fellow
left, my brother and I are there
fishing together, our poles glinting in the water.
My mouth moves. My eyes are alive!
I cry to my brother with joy.
For that bluejay was a messenger of what I want!

Gregory my friend and guide on this voyage seems benign.
He brushes my chest and my stretched,
naked arms open to the sun
with a branch of the fragrant pine.
“Be healed,” he chants with each glancing
stroke. “Be healed.” The needles prick my skin back into life,
and I go down to bathe my feet in the stream. The veins
form a light, mottled web along my white ankle.
I feel my kinship with the pine,
the jay, the luminescent stream
and with him—or is it with her,
the Mother? Gregory, my oracle, my teacher.
He leans there in the door of our tent by the river,
his face glowing, hair long and shining as a woman’s,
his belly fat with life—pregnant with the two of us:
my brother and I, unborn twins who lie entangled
in each other’s developing
limbs. Soon we will be born! He and I will taste of milk
for the very first time! And taste of strawberry pop
and of bright bananas. And we will eat, my brother
and I, a great, shining, autumn-red apple fallen
from our father’s tree as if from the long sky, and you
too will taste this apple with us,
for we all have the same mother, and her name is Grace

Advertisements

29 responses

  1. Ha ha! Peek-a-boo toes. I like that.

    7-April-2008 at 7:56 pm

  2. Lovely, just lovely.

    Tara

    7-April-2008 at 7:58 pm

  3. What a wonderful place to enjoy your nap. Lovely poem about twins! Our Auntie has 8 year old twins, They’re very noisy.

    8-April-2008 at 12:32 am

  4. You look very comfy there, Sophia. :)

    8-April-2008 at 12:41 am

  5. Cute! Your blog has the best toes!

    8-April-2008 at 12:55 am

  6. Them’s the very best peek-a-boo toes around!

    8-April-2008 at 2:20 am

  7. That’s a great place to sleep! And a lovely poem!

    8-April-2008 at 2:58 am

  8. We must make our toes more precious by keeping them hidden. And it keeps them warm. You look lovely, Sophia!

    8-April-2008 at 6:44 am

  9. Sophia, you are such a lovely ladycat! I am loving all the poetry you are sharing with us. Purrs!

    8-April-2008 at 6:47 am

  10. What a comfy nap place they have set up for you Sophia.

    8-April-2008 at 7:08 am

  11. Hidey toes! hehehe Yoo looks furry comfy Sophia :)
    Purrrrrrs,
    Sanjee and the resta the Hotties

    8-April-2008 at 7:57 am

  12. Hi Sweetheart! -Slick

    8-April-2008 at 8:45 am

  13. Sophia
    I like sleeping on the back of chairs too…also has a nice view when you wake up..

    Purrs

    8-April-2008 at 9:19 am

  14. That looks like a good nappy spot!

    8-April-2008 at 11:49 am

  15. Great nap spot!

    8-April-2008 at 1:05 pm

  16. Wow triple great!!!
    Great toes
    Great nap spot
    Great poem

    8-April-2008 at 1:24 pm

  17. That is a very nice photo. As for the raspberries, you have to wait til June, or July. Sorry.

    Roxy

    8-April-2008 at 1:26 pm

  18. Sooooo sweet

    8-April-2008 at 1:44 pm

  19. Thats a furry nice set up you got yourself there Diva Kitty!

    8-April-2008 at 4:44 pm

  20. Nice toes and what a lovely relaxed – and balanced – sleep! Do the rabbits get on well with the cats? I had a New Zealand Great guest once who got on fine with the cats.

    8-April-2008 at 5:29 pm

  21. Such great poetry work .. It’s a good Month is April.. Poetry and Earth Month …

    8-April-2008 at 5:55 pm

  22. great spot… i gotta find me one like that in my house, now that i’m a house rabbit, that is when the big dumb puppy is too tired to bug me

    8-April-2008 at 6:42 pm

  23. What a beautiful napping spot that is, Sophia!

    8-April-2008 at 7:36 pm

  24. Oh, you look so cozy! And thank you for sharing that lovely poem.

    Purrs and snuggles from Marilyn.

    8-April-2008 at 11:40 pm

  25. What a nice place to nap – such a beautiful view out on a lush garden!!!

    9-April-2008 at 12:35 pm

  26. I like how your toes stand out against your black body. What a wonderful napping spot!

    9-April-2008 at 1:20 pm

  27. Somebody tell Fiona that our slot machine does no longer pay out in bananas since they went up in price. We are in a recesssion so we are stuck with dandelion greens from the yard and sometimes a carrot.

    9-April-2008 at 8:27 pm

  28. No tickle toes? Rats.

    10-April-2008 at 12:32 pm

  29. Pacific, just pacific…

    Purrrrrrrrs and kisses.

    12-April-2008 at 1:54 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s