Between order and chaos,
in the interstice between air and swallow's wing--
in the silent interlude between rippled pond and snow-dusted ice,
there lies the thing I have wanted to say.
I have been thinking about the difference between old glass and new;
whether the wave is perceived or actual--
in the pane, the mind, or somewhere beyond.
And....is the smooth order of new glass wanted--needed--
in every window, upstairs and down, from vane to garden shed?
Today, I thought of your hands,
swallow-small; and like them, never still.
I thought of you holding a knife, an orchard apple, a fallen bird, my face.
I knelt among the tomato vines held on their stakes,
thick with green leaves going yellow around red offerings.
I sobbed.
I couldn't help myself.
In the indigo between coin-moon and a million stars,
between ink and score where the fermata speaks to a single heart beat,
there lies the explanation, the cold-water borderline
between order and chaos, wrapped in silk,
held between fingers like a tarot card.
Oh...chaos the surface and the core at once.
Order, these lines, these rows, these days and weeks;
the ones I live in now,
with my routines, my dog, and this terrible, lovely music
pressed between my ear and the late-year air--
for you,
for angels and devils,
for sane and insane,
carried on a gust that swirls forward in a round dance,
no end or beginning,
called by no one, moving through rows and woods, over water, into winter.
_______
"....between air and swallow's wing...." wow! Such powerful images, the narrator sobbing among the tomato plants..........and all of the "betweens"...... A spectacular write!
ReplyDeleteThis lies between the ghost of of a dead mothers lips and the ear of a wailing infants desire. What an inspiring piece. It's why they all fall in love with your mind. But mostly me. Heavy fucking sigh......
ReplyDeleteOh .. my.. freaking .. LORD!💞 This is so incredibly potent, Shay! I love how the emotion flows as though a river gifting us its wisdom along the way. Especially love the images; "in the silent interlude between rippled pond and snow-dusted ice" and oh "there lies the explanation, the cold-water borderline between order and chaos, wrapped in silk, held between fingers like a tarot card".. sigh.. Unforgettable write!💞
ReplyDeleteThis has the depth of the soul's chaos, and its tenacious grasp on order, plumbed, and then, skated across, dived into, and finally simply accepted. If I was a quoter, I think I'd start at the third stanza, which made my heart tighten as if for tears, and then include everything after this, my favorite line '...In the indigo between coin-moon and a million stars...' that's where the spirit lives, and seeks its answers, and finds its music. This is one of your finest, Shay, beyond any easy compliment, and it's a damn shame it came too late for your book--but I'm sure will glitter and shine in your next one.
ReplyDeleteIt is not often that I am at a loss for words, but this poem just rendered me partially speechless. I am so proud to know this poet, and so damn envious of this brilliance. Seldom does every line of a piece quiver with such emotion in so poised a fashion. Really, really well done.
ReplyDelete"between ink and score where the fermata speaks to a single heart beat,
ReplyDeletethere lies the explanation"
"held between fingers like a tarot card.
Oh...chaos the surface and the core at once."
This is perhaps the best poetry I've ever read.
Retirement has further liberated the poet
ReplyDeleteShay, I'm shook up. Why should I be crying? There's something definite about the old glass and new, the hands holding a knife, a face, that tipped me over the edge of composure. And still, these rows must be hoed. It's all so terrible lovely!!! For angels and devils. And I'm still crying. Gotta get 'hold of myself. Or not. Thanks for not letting me miss this one.
ReplyDeleteah. superb. ~
ReplyDelete