From Winamop.com

Five poems
by Taunja Thomson

 


Brace Yourself

 

 

Brace yourself,

o ye of little faith

that non-believers

can be amazed

at the ocean of sky

and sea of soil

where all bones

come to rest.

 

Be not afraid

for our lack of faith

in a larger hand

does not keep us

from basking in the gleam

of a murmuration

amid flurries.

And like you

we know that spring

digs into the landscape

pulling forth buds

perennially.

 

This is the kingdom

that we share:

fields paved with lavender

tomatoes    pumpkins    snow

forests of trees

draped in moss and birds

rough mountains

weeping spring snow.

 

And the stars:  O

the stars. 

Their light shines

long, long after their deaths.

Brace yourself:

we are surrounded

by the universe

a halo of infinity.

 

 

 

a black line

 

 

 

(I See Him) Floridly

~found poem based on Plath’s “Ouija”

 

 

Chilly god of vermilions

drummed above us

with virgin tears

bawdy bones

hot nectarine;

I see him doddering

floridly.

 

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

 

From which They Came

 

 

Smell of night

crawling     slipping

over walls    gates

swimming

through violets

like velvet

clinging to blossoms

burrowing    embracing—

gravity has never

been stronger.

 

Moon hangs early

lands late

suspended in between

refuses blame

answers charges of inconstancy

with steady

shape-shifting.

She burns copper

in cobalt sky

with cold stars

for her altar

absorbing pledges

releasing them

back into the nothingness

from which they came.

 

 

 

a black line

 

 

Meeting —

 

 

storm and river sturgeon

lotus and fox

fraying and leaping

intuition and aftermath

depth and light

starry and stench-ridden

lost and plummeting

like breath

 

 

 

a black line

 

 

 

Cage of Sky

 

 

What is sky

but a splotched aqua

backdrop

for trees.

And what are trees

but rusty lines

cutting up

and across

sky. 

And what are trees

but devices

for spreading leaf

debris    moldy

poison

for nasal consumption.

And what are humans—

awkward staggering

blue-veined spears

thrusting our desires

up to sky

raining demands down

on trees

jumping in piles

of brittle and browning

leaves    lying

on our backs

flat faces up to branch

and firmament

predator eyes

seeking meat and fur

and something beyond

the cage of sky.

 

 

 


 

a black line

 

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