Blog o’ Gnosis

The past few days I have been searching through old journals and notebooks looking for notes on an event I went to years ago. I haven’t found the prize yet, but in the process of not finding what I was looking for I did find some other interesting stuff.

Back in 1990 I was taking a poetry class in the evenings, and I worked on those assignments in the same notebook that I used for recording meeting minutes, jotting down ideas for articles, and writing songs. Somewhere in the middle of all that I found the following, dated July 12. I have no recollection of writing it, but I think I was in the middle of writing a song that wasn’t cooperating, and this came out instead. I rather like it; not bad for a first draft poem. Or is it minutes from a meeting?

Pushing a sound from lungs to throat
Going to the egg below the crusty earth, lay
my flowers at the altars of the muses
Campbell says one should focus on one muse, but I,
not knowing the presence which interrupts
my days, speak to them all
I say
I am 28, I have waited out the slow IV drip
that kept my blood from raining onto the damp earth
I have entered your walls with thought and no-thought,
danced here on your marble floors
and now, a feather
floating amongst the stars in the sky
of this room
has landed on my foot. I will
take it and go.
Just one thing, they say. Were your feet
made of feathers you would have no
reason to stop here, under and beneath
all that supports you. Go lightly,
tread on nothing you can’t see
and write about it all.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 25th, 2007 at 12:27 pm and is filed under Poetry, Spirit. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.