MAP
#90
II.
Featured Poetry Theme: I've Got Something On My Mind
1.
Sher Khan... by Megan Howland
reach
into me as i sleep in peace
instinct
bears more for me
because
it satisfies the lack in me,
2
months gone in the jungle of my senses
this
fire's burning and there's no smoke to steer me
relay
animal aggression to my limbs
my
beating heart is no mystery
the
savage world beats an air up around me
flesh
and fire mesh in undulation
2
months gone in the jungle of my senses
this
fire's burning
and
there's no smoke to steer me
home.
It's
a lack of taste for one's self becoming cannibal
look
beyond the flesh; be witness to what you see in it
organic
matter, vital flame, animation--
it's
all the same
When
I open up my soul so I can taste the core
I
can feel no pain
inside
the flame is something so precious
I
want to devour it.
(Tyger,
tyger
burning
bright
in
the forest of the night
what
immortal hand or eye
could
frame thy fearful symmetry?*)
It's
gone from me
control
of urges deep in me
to
rip to rend
all
of me
associated
with humanity.
2
months gone in the jungle of my senses
this
fire's burning and there's no smoke to steer me
as
i prowled in stealth through the village
the
pale face of the children reminded me
that
Home is where the heart is
that
Home is where the heart is
that
Home is where the heart is
that
Home
is
blood.
It
may be true
to
be human
we
must be animal.
*William
Blake
©
Megan Howland
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2.
From Xennia Gittoes-Singh of So. Cal:
Trail
of Tears
Tears
on my heart, bloody feet, gaping holes in moccasins, legs like lead:
so
tired
run
us from our summer camps, past our winter camps, to other camps and
camps
around
and over snow capped mountains, plunging valleys
into
freezing waters, through deep forests; they tell us lies
lies,
all lies we are never home
Oozing
sores of grandmothers and grandfathers, babies can't cry; too
hungry
fearless
warriors with empty eyes, helping slow walking, pregnant wives
Traveling,
walking. Where are we going? Why can't we stay over here or
just
over there
everyone
is saying a different prayer. Our shamans had omen dream visions
alien
men would come, our life as we had known it, was done
racing
from our past, running over our ancestors
soaring
to the endless, endless - trail
©
1998 Xennia Gittoes-Singh
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.
Canto 21: The Corridor (Excerpt) by Ted Reilly
There
is no shame in a didactic poem, or in writing one,
But
sooner or later, probably as soon as the ink dries,
There
is only a scrap of paper with spiders' tracks
Running
from one side to the other, a painting or sketch
In
blue-black: It will take an eye to see and tongue to sing
The
dance of signs down the corridor, one step at a time,
Moving
between two known points, there and here,
The
next half of the coming step already framed on his tongue:
Tune
and beatinghand against the corridor and walls,
His
body counting out the letters which make his name.
©
1999 EJReilly
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4.
Kangaroo by David Barnes
i
am Australia
land
of bloodred sands
mountains
wide open plains
Iiving
my structured life
i
blend unseen
forage
for food
down
nature's dream.
i
have lived your brutality
i
neither fear- nor hate
accuse
or forgive
more
wounded than ire.
your
fumes rise
choking
you continually
when
you destroy yourself
who
shall work?
in
your glazed towers
live
in your emptiness.
©
1999 deBarnes