Go out to the edge of the world
and hug yourself
Great blue sky to bathe your back
Sweet toes curled under pink
and your eyes sleeping
on the bridge of your nose.
I am your sister from the blond tribe
Our fathers all gathered in the pre-hunt huddle
Fires crackled with pine nuts, north and south
Skies all blue in the long northern days
Summer passing into heaven.
Logic one – Me , Zip!
By Richard Parish
In the grip of mental emergence,
Convergence of special massRequim,
inspired ‘Ah Heck, We’um….”
Strumming, Drumming,
Anti Numbing
Or the Plumbing of a
Bush of nerve-fiber,
of “ Zieg-heil-ism”,
So called Patriotism.
Not for God?
Who Knew the Blue Shoes
Would own the news,
They think the world only exists,
In the shine of their boots.
Logic Two-Me Zip!
Running for the sun
Love in the Run,
The eyes in the run,
The Song Songs
Long longings
Of my Creature-hood
Neighborhood,
My Hood-Hood
Sans ChildHood,
Or so seems now,
Logic three, Me Zip!
Who to trust in the rust of memories,
Lingered beleagured, lingerines left off as a child.
The wheels maintain strainings
Of dreamt up gainings
Un realism, whrenched out bolts of rope
In the dope, golgatha, the yoga Hatha
Rumi knew and Knows
Logic Four, Me Zip!
Talk to me pleading,
I who hope in hopes hopelessness
Blind groping-ness
Of hurled worlds, inside the time-tried wrongs
Never a song wrong,
Wronged wrongings from the bongings or iron Bells.
I am having conversations
with the insides of words
they unfold like strands of DNA
one letter at a time
wrap themselves around
my every move and thought.
This I allow like mantras;
they unfurl like flags;
they lead me to still waters.
See how the word “dazzle” has become
the bones between my hip and toes
dazzle needs water and exercise
dazzle needs to move
and so it gets me going ‘til its past tense
becomes a bingo spanning the board
from red to red and I am stilled
by the sight of this but bored
stiff and suddenly the words are wine
and I have drunk too much.
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Poets of the Western Trinity 