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| A favorite painting of my Dad's (this being just a crappy photo of a tiny replica postcard) |
There...at my equator, you can split me like an Easter egg
my spirit saying up - up
a toddler longing for the saddle of a crooked hip
and a pillowy breast
my body pulled down
as if gravity were the mouth of a barren land
needing the nourishment of my decayed remains
to re-seed for another season.
None of this is particularly troublesome.
Of their own volition
my arms reach toward constellations I can't see
loving my own infinity
while the grass eats at my trunk
so slowly, I almost forget that I am dying.
But when my hands
fall
in vein attempt
to take back from the field all it has required,
my very soul lights a torch, smoke signal to all those stars,
and rallies for separation.
oh yes.
YES, YES!
I am not my body.
.
.
.
.
.
Indeed, which is why it's not right to judge books by their covers.
ReplyDeleteFucking A, Annie-girl. I love this:
ReplyDelete"my body pulled down
as if gravity were the mouth of a barren land
needing the nourishment of my decayed remains
to re-seed for another season"
I look all around my yard...the herbs have all gone to flower/seed (the butterflies flit about them like yellow and orange falling leaves) and the seed pods are magnificently beautiful. I love that line to pieces. I want to eat it and swallow it whole.
Yes, we are re-seeding, preparing for what comes next in this crazybeautiful life. I love you, my Annie. (Ray says hello and that it's our 39th anniversary today. He's so proud you'd think HE alone accomplished this milestone....he also said to tell you he misses you, that you are my most fearless and adventurous friend...and he's right). xoxo
Of their own volition
ReplyDeletemy arms reach toward constellations I can't see
loving my own infinity
while the grass eats at my trunk
so slowly, I almost forget that I am dying.
well, holy hell, this is a brilliant piece of writing! (living too.)
i resist your last line, although i have felt it. we are our bodies, too, i think, but only in part. we surge between all of our parts.
your father's art is stunning. absolutely stunning.
xo
erin
Eric - I judge wine by the label first :) I am often sorry!
ReplyDeleteMarion - Happy 39th! I miss the both of you, and MY chair. Tell Ray, next time...I'm driving the motorcycle. He can ride sidecar. heh heh. AND we're bringing a days worth of provisions into the swamp...and a GPS tracker.
Erin - You're right of course. I should have added the "just". I am not JUST my body. I am less and more my body at the same time. Oh how complicated it all is! Yes, my dad is a master painter. He has molded his life around what he loves to do, rather than his life dictating what he does.
That was effing beautiful.
ReplyDeleteOooh. Vivid. I am not my body. Exceptional. Love the art work. Stalking his website now. :-)
ReplyDeleteOh, wow, happy 39th too, Marion!
ReplyDeleteWhen you said painting of your dad's did you mean a painting he owned or one he made? Do you collect your own too? I've always thought that would be a great hobby if I were rich enough. Although, I guess not art is really expensive. I got some great, small paintings in India that are simply gorgeous.
BUT about the poem! The line "I am not my body" got me thinking. Sometimes I feel like I'm more than flesh and bone, trying to break free. Not in a suicidal way of course.
Loving my own infinity - may I please have that as a bumper sticker? :)
ReplyDeleteMatthew - Thank you mucho MacNish!
ReplyDeleteZeba - Thanks for checking in and checking out the artwork. He really is amazing.
Ben - My biological father is a painter, not a collector. He painted the image above, but much better than my little photo of my little 2"x2" postcard :). I have many of his pieces and my biological mother's as well. I think there are only two non-original art pieces in my house. It's kind of a living museum to the two of them. I am scattering my photography around now...as if I could belong on the same walls! Ha! You will break free Ben Ditty. It is inevitable that one day we will not be our bodies at all.
EcoGrrl - Only $3.99 on Etsy.com. Heh heh. Free for you, of course.
wowwowwow to your poem and your father's artwork. talent personified. it is a neat thing for me to see what your father has created.
ReplyDeletei always remember hearing: 'i am was before abraham.' to me that means abraham existed before he was a body and a person with a name. i think that is what you are saying. i don't like the decay part. i'm working on it. :^)
i look forward to your posts now. good for me.
♥
kj
smoke signals i like, and torches. i'm a sucker for that sort of imagery. hope you're having a good weekend.
ReplyDeleteKJ - Interesting quote. It is comforting to think of my soul as infinite while my body continues to decay. Yeah...I don't like it either. Good for me too :)
ReplyDeleteEd - Tribal imagery somehow helps me feel centered. I AM having a good weekend. I am learning the iMac and downloaded Photoshop, so I'm being creative today. Thanks Shutter Bug!
W&W - you've visually shown us the soul leaving
ReplyDeletethe body in an extraordinary visceral use of
words - soft, seeds that plant an idea.
verse 3 is magical.
Annie,,
ReplyDeletehow is the new machine? have you acquired one ?...i have been pushed so much down this tunnel of work and pay that it has become difficult to even feel things in the dark...You as always have remained brilliant ...'gravity were the mouth of a barren land'...loved it...
or No NO
ReplyDeleteI am not my body.
It goes both ways for me :)!
Really, this was beautiful. My mind is at constant odds though with who I am and who I appear to be. Thus my comment about my body.
Shauna - That is a wonderful compliment to the piece. I wish it were so. I have longed for it so often. The final separation. I know you'll think I'm morbid as most people do, but I've always been ready :)
ReplyDeleteManik - Hello my friend. New machine is from another planet. We are getting aquainted. I've yelled at it. I've kissed it. We've not yet wed :) The quality of the visuals is really amazing!!!! How I wish we did not need to work. I find there is little time to breathe in the light Manik. I was just thinking this mornning..."I have lost it. I have lost every creative edge I had." I decided instead of fretting over it and trying to force it to the surface, I would just wait for it to find me. It always does.
Amy - I think that is a wonderful statement. I think we should constantly be considerate of whether who we present is equal to who we are. I want to live a life without pretention as much as possible. I want to be myself and care little if you call me stupid or brilliant. Damn it's hard though, because I do care.
That there's a wildly inspirational piece of winery.
ReplyDeleteThat's what I'll start calling your stuff, I suppose -- winery == wine + poetry, get it?
Anyway.
My neighbor's daughter died this weekend. She was 25, had battled cancer for years. I may share this with them.
It really is beautiful, and in a cosmic way, timely.
- Eric
Eric - I read your comment first as "whinery" and started cracking up. I thought, only Eric has the stones to call my writing whinery...which of course it sometimes is...and I am always grateful for you feeling you can call 'em as you see 'em. Then I read the next line, and well...that's just cool. "Piece of winery". I love it.
ReplyDeleteDamn I'm sorry about your friend's daughter. I cannot imagine his pain. It is the highest compliment that you would want to share a piece of writing with them, especially on such a delicate occasion. Thank you Eric.
This is haunting. So much energy in this piece. I love it.
ReplyDeleteit will ...and otherwise as charles bukowski said
ReplyDelete"Don't try"...
Annie - this is gorgeous. Sent-chills-up-my-spine and-made-the-hair-on-the-back-of-my-neck-stand-up kind of gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteI love the line "I almost forget that I am dying." Isn't that the entire point of life? To live it so that we forget that we are all dying?
Beautiful.
I wanted to post this here...from Eric, cuz well...it makes me laugh, and not many people ever refer to my blog. It's just something I want to remember...
ReplyDelete"I read this and like so many of Annie's ad hoc poems, it scraped my neck just at the base of my skull, there in the primal parts we share with birds and lizards and cavemen alike. True words, she wrote, true and old as granny's virginity."
True and old as granny's virginity! Heh heh!
Tracy - I love that we are crawling around these tunnels at the same time. That is the best line. You know how to call 'em! Love you!
ReplyDelete