Rumbling

author’s note:

“How slowly we flash up in clarity!”
                       —  Nelly Sachs
 

STOKING THE THUNDERBOLT

As the dark cloud
shadows my path

again, I am made small

and return to
the childhood wonder

of how a cloud builds up
as it searches the earth—
slowly filling
with life
until ready to burst

like an eggplant ripened
nearly to rotting—
every egg must eventually
surrender its shell.

I can’t help but wonder
as I did as a child
how those wispy clouds
not only survive
the tearing wind
but build stronger, fighting.

As they grow, they begin
to hear the thunder god
rumbling within—
the thunder god will use them.

When I sense such forces
I can’t help but wonder
as I did as a child
how my own life
will play out—

you never know—premonitions
don’t even tell us half the truth—

the flash creation
actually happens
so very slow—
no matter how
you urge it on.

I can’t imagine: yet I know
such forces—when summoned—
very nearly kill us.

But such forces, unsummoned—
unexpected—kill us even worse.

So I bow here, working the hammer—
knowing that with each stroke
I stoke the thunderbolt, that I stoke
toward bursting.

© 2009, Michael R. Patton
earnest audio
new steps

Another Obvious Secret

author’s note:

“Love yourself.  Then forget it.  Then, love the world.”
                   —  Mary Oliver
 

COMING CLEAN

From all my washing
—to wear down
impediments…I’ve realized
the painful obvious

fact: washing away
can never
completely erase
what first caused
that battlement.

On the other hand…

neither will forgetting.

This work has also taught me
why someone would want
to forget—

because when
I get past
the anger
underneath
I find grief.

Another obvious secret.

But if I can keep
eroding, I believe
eventually—finally—
I’ll uncover
the fast certainty
of stone.

The one I sensed
all along.

© 2009, Michael R. Patton
earnest audio
new steps

Not Bowing to Demand

author’s note:

After that last poem, I felt I should lighten up a bit.

I say: language is made to be played with…

…but not twisted until it breaks.
 

MEETING DEMAND

The ad tells me
I can
      “Be In Demand!”

I’m intrigued because
I’ve rarely been in
any kind
of demand.

However, as I recall
when I was, I doubted I could
meet that demand.

But I was younger in the past.

So what if I did become
“In Demand”?—
how exactly would I answer?

Well, I would try to be honest.
I would say what I’ve been saying
since the last time
I was in demand:

       look not to me, but to yourself—
       look within—
       I can not give you
       what you already
       have.

But such talk is apt
to make some people
grumble—
I might lose
whatever demand
I was in.

So be it:
I will bow—
but not to demand.

© 2009, Michael R. Patton
earnest audio
new steps

No Ghosts on Me

author’s note:

I wanted to post something scarey for Halloween. And what’s more scarey than our own selves?

But it’s meant to be a hopeful poem.
 

HAUNTED PALACE

This palace is beautiful
but haunted—
human life has bled
into its brick.

We lounge
in the smoking parlor
breathing our civilized thoughts
out through our mouths—
expelling our ashen shadows
into the draperies, crushing our sadness
into the boards underfoot.

So why are we surprised
when the walls groan
like a pained animal?
The windows cry for opening—
they’d rather have their glass shattered
than live in such a fog.

Millions of tears have been shed
in this downstairs room.  A man hung
himself here
rather than climb
the staircase.

Rather than climb the staircase
we let bats jump out of our heads

to commit glorious wars.

I get the tension nerves when
I step to the attic—but firm up
my resolution
to look into the mirror
until morning, though I know
spirits will seep
into my mind and body—
I’ll be possessed—
but through destruction
made whole once more.

I may thrash
like a skeleton wracked
by Saint Vitus’ dance.
The sight of me
may lift wigs
off respectable lids.

But I must break open
my own heart,
my own hand,
my own head.

I refuse to be haunted.

© 2009, Michael R. Patton
earnest audio
new steps