Best Osiris Poems
To the end, the Home will uproot itself in nomadic urge -
The Flesh will ache to lift as paper from its delicate strands
with their reddy pulse, to float off as the slip of a dove
and bask with the world in a kitey splendor
and unbound from bitter ink,
and proudly Naked to the next beginning.
The Skin wishes to dirty itself,
soles in urban sewage and belly in a ritual mud.
The Skin wants to be tattooed, marked, and symphonically
Undefined. The Skin wants to be held.
And what of the Brain? Oh, You clumsy, grey thing,
How You whine to create, how You noisily rustle with blurred Eurekas
in Your shaking box, how stubborn! And too clean!
You must train each day to soften Your concrete,
and finger the soil in. You throb to be spoken to,
And Tongue: You throb to speak.
You want an exercise that dumbly bends You in
unfamiliar manner, You want Your spine to heavily crack,
to be understood and answered in turn
by another fluid, pink leech.
Lungs, You must breathe!
Expand proudly, thin sails!
Exhale rusted screams and gossamer whispers
to tell them who You are.
To proclaim Your bit of earth,
to which You are purposed a return,
a carbon christening.
The two jelly-eggs of the Eyes beg the colors,
They stubbornly will the whitened pokes in a black-blanketed sky.
And They must recognize the special ones They dilate for,
memorize each canyon and all their pebbles
for the day they are curtained.
And ears, You flat, blushing roses, You micey rounds;
You know Your purpose well. Let the instruments seduce You,
And the words of another prick Your delicate hairs.
Receive the good news -
that You are loved.
Now, scatter, scatter!
Seek every crevice,
and fit yourself to each corner untouched.
Cradle the empty, fill the cups.
It is not until You know all the world and hold every bone
That You will join to birth the infant Soul.
She cried
All the tears
Of her body
Of his heart
Of her mind
Until
Only his soul
Can reveal herself
Can transform himself
In the flood of the Nile
This is the way it is
That flew away
The first Imperial Aquila
Lonely
Heavenly
Invisibly
In search of fourteen pieces
Stolen
Scattered
Dismembered
Of her Love
Aby, New York, 20th May 2022
Glory to her hands that stitched the green,
That sought the pieces of a love torn wide:
For her strong grief, a river spilling light:
For her sharp magic, beautiful and keen,
That found the fragments and refused to hide:
And knit his broken body back from night.
All things lost, scattered, shattered, and undone:
Whatever's broken (who can say why?):
She holds the pieces, breathes them into form:
She births the sun from what was not a sun:
Let life begin.
If you want the
blood of Osiris. You will
have to praise my folly,
share in my laughter,
and feel the life
of Re. If you want
the blood of Osiris,
the life of God, you
must feel yourself
and know your heart's
content. Let the blood
of Osiris fill your
cheeks flush and
within the eyes of Set.
There was a time not so long ago
When my children still ran on little legs
Wading through ocean green evening summer grass
Their faces bright as lamps with laughter
Hop-scotching up to their knees
In polka dotted waves of fireflies
If you can imagine Osiris and Isis awoke from their married womb
Walking wind through chandeliers
When galaxies fell to the mirrors of Earth
Sifted like gold from sand
Oh the reflection of gods we have forgotten
How to walk on water
At my knees in the woods I stir the stars of a small fire
Chant a ritual to bring back the magic
A diamond dislodges from the crown of Oak
Flitter of soul enchanting the shadows
To the children I say dance and sing
Ring in again the vegetable spirits
Swirl your feet with allure of dreams
At your ankles the twinkle of constellations
Comb with sparks your beautiful hair
All may be shared
The return of angels from yesteryear.