Sunday, November 29, 2009
Passion
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Black Window
Most of the time, I concentrate on bringing the speckles closer. They first appear so far off in the edgeless grey distance. The sequence begins with the glowing sphere coalescing in the center, pulsing in expanding rays flowing like a red dwarf sun radiating fire, orange and gold. Sometimes indigo blue and rose violet bands appear and sometimes it swirls in spiraling colors turning clockwise. It is so beautiful to behold. I can hear sounds— swishing, a deep toned hum growing soft to loud, soft to loud. Eventually, all color and movement blend into the pure grey field. In the distance I see the tiny cluster of black dots. I invite them, come to me, closer, closer, yet I must not focus on them, keeping my view wide as possible, as if I am inhaling or widening myself in order to pull them toward me like gravity or space for them to fill. As they near, they gather to form an oval pool floating horizontally in the grey. I move toward the night-black shape to look into and see it’s a window through which i can view stars in the vacuum depths of space. I poke my head through looking down to see tiny sparkling lights. Flashing, as if images on pages are turning, as though flipping through a book on it’s side, the pages, one after the other, moving so fast it’s a mystery, strange and wonderful - dazzling. I realize it is a directory possibly of everything there ever was and is to be. All at one point, the gates of now and forever. As I watch, the spinning stops. A page lays open black on black yet begins to take on depth and dimension. I am looking down now upon the curved surface of a planet as if from a ship in space. There are cities with sharp futuristic spires, arches defying gravity; a tumultuous webwork of lace highways, buildings and towers with sparkling lights all blinking bright with energy in shiny blackness and I realize I am climbing through the oval window and almost all the way through when a thought intrudes like a floating question mark in the blackness of outer space... How long will the window stay open? Will I be able to return? Suddenly aware of myself in the middle of an endless universe, I am human once again, pulled back in the snappy wink of an eye out from the depths, away from the planet of spidery lacework. Snapped back through the oval window which is murdered by awareness, shattered to pure black shards, receding into the distance from whence they came, and I, now through to the open, infinite, grey demesne, then back into my world, my room, my chair, my meditation. Colors in the room, light in my eyes, cat on my lap. The Warlord’s asleep. Is there no one I could tell? Who would believe my story?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Contemplation
Searchers
Here is poetry. In a space, a place by itself, this lonely poem. This lonely poem, is searching for the words, the words to make some sense in this space.
And here is art, with all excitement and hopefulness. Hanging on the wall, waiting for poem to come along. and make some sense with words in this space.
Waiting for the poetry, this lonely poem to come across this art and recognize his face, because he’s in a place without words, a place by itself, this lonely place.
And here is beauty and hope and love. They are dancing in a circle arm in arm, spinning and laughing. They find the art and they find the poetry and they fill the space so it isn’t lonely and they lift us up with art and poetry to a place that is filled with words and images that is tempered by beauty and hope and love.
They’ve all gone off now… in search of music.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
A Night On The Town
Out last night – walking & subwaying all over the Downtown New York City East and West Side. Playing my dulcimer whenever possible and everybody within earshot seems to enjoy it. Started with playing 2 songs at my Saturn Series Poetry reading at Nightingale Lounge, then took the L crosstown & A downtown to west 4th st. (played in the station while waiting) to Café Vivaldi. Sit down to listen to the open mike Banjo player and I am handed a plate of Black Forest cake for the lovely singing hostess' birthday. Glass of Merlot goes well with that. Hearing some fun music and next there is Jim Petrie playing his guitar & song. He came to the music open mike I host recently (suggested by poet friend Puma Perl) and I also bumped into him at Falcon Ridge Folk Fest. So fun to run into people like this. I play one song at Vivaldi too, at the end of their open mike (i got my nerve up and asked since there were 2 cancellations and the lovely host was kind to let me in on the list.) I even remember to announce my book is at St. Marks Books and my open mike on wed. It turns out that "The Closer" is Erik Frandsen who’s sitting at the bar with sunglasses on, surrounded by several lovely young women of course. He chimes in about the open mike and the great feature. We’re treated to a marvelous short set of charming whit and wisdom from this master songwriter & finger style guitarist. Just wonderful. Erik then announces that he's coming to my open mike on Wed 8/5 to sit in with David Massengill (the feature) So maybe some of the others there will tag along. Getting more excited about Wednesday's event. Then I am off to the Ear Inn, seeing as it’s nearby and as they always have late music on Monday nites. Gratefully, I hear some Rockabilly & Western Blues from the Times Square Romeos including some Lefty Frisell songs & Buck Owens. Having some nice mussels in white wine sauce with a lovely glass of Malbec makes this hole in the wall visit even more enjoyable. Then I head over to Arturo's with the hope of hearing some great piano music from Harry Whitaker and others who may be sitting in with their instruments wanting also to sit in for a song, practicing Lullabye of the Leaves and In Other Words on the way there. (time for Jazz vocals – wouldn't expect to play the dulcimer there!) but they were closing, oh well. Then I wander by The Bitter End but they don't have anybody playing I want to hear, but I see the all night supermarket is open and stop in to shop for eggs & smoked salmon, then I head to Spring St. Station for the No. 6 train and play my dulcimer while waiting a long time. There are a lot of subway wreck & wreck crew hanging about waiting for something & some tourists liking my playing. Got off at 23rd street and people hanging out in front of what may be the only 7/11 in Manhattan waved hello to me (the lone musician) with their Slurpies in hand. Then to home. about 2 am. Wow, what a long walk that was. (and some subway) Thank you New York! Fun!
Some Place I Keep Empty You Touched
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Turning Stones
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Smoked Mozzarella Reminds Me
Campfire on the mountaintop
Flickering red/orange light
Highlighting hands reaching out
For warmth in this crisp dark
Tunnel that is the forest shroud
Trees looming in the limelight
Proscenium arch of pine and cedar
In the morning, dew dampens
Everything – except the white ash
Dancing from the lingering heat
And it all smells so smoky
The tent, the down bag, the pack,
The clothes, the boots, the parka,
The dirt under your fingernails,
The woolen hat
All so smoky.
©2009 Su Polo 3/30/09
Sunday, June 14, 2009
In Waves
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Night Dream
Sunday, June 7, 2009
A Whisper
I was wondering how you are, though
Our friendship did not go far
The cold, dark night of fear crept in and
I fell into that dark.
Did you find yourself in love?
Is she with you now?
Does she fill your heart?
Does she really care?
Pull back the night
Pull back the day
Pull the surface back
Pull it all away.
I am burning still, after all this time
My thoughts are flaming coals
A burning light
Has invaded my soul.
I send my thoughts out to you.
I hope they brush your mind,
Your cheeks, your lips, your eyes.
A touch bound by the wind
A touch light as a feather
A touch as quiet as a whisper
A whisper is a kiss
I whisper
All the time
Your name
And mine.
© 2009 Su Polo
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Lone Soul
Friday, June 5, 2009
Beyond Reason
Beyond reason
Beyond the mind
the heart is the doorway
To the bottomless ocean
Called The Soul.
What has fallen in is a stone.
Upon it, carved deeply, is your name.
It is falling deeper and deeper.
It will never wear away.
Perhaps one day, my magic turtle will
Carry it back from the depths and
Return it to my hand. There it will
Melt into your beating heart.
You will come to claim it
And we will share the joy of
Finding you
Whole once more.
We will live by the shore
And swim in the
Bottomless
Ocean.
©1996 & 2009 Su Polo