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Emanuel Carter Poem
SEPTEMBER 19, 2019
We were deep in the forest
on our way to Tupper Lake
It was an early fall morning full of
sunshine and song from a beautiful
Spanish singer whose soulful caress
can cause a tearful recognition that
it’s a joy to be alive!
North of Long Lake
the vistas opened up to the shimmering
bright colors of the Adirondack reserve,
the deep vivid reds of merlot and claret,
tempranillo and cabernet, the oranges
and yellows of the fall farmers markets
all thoroughly embedded in the rugged
massif and the semi-boreal landscapes of
northern New York
For people somewhere else it was simply
a Thursday, with routines and obligations
and complex navigations through the
duties and requirements of family, work and
home, and supported by kindness, good intentions
and love against the many manifestations of
malfeasance and misfortune in these dark
dangerous days of our interesting times
But for me it was more - a contemplative
journey full of gratitude and wonder, meditation
and prayer, and in ways that were invisible to the
students in the van, I just broke down and sobbed
for the privilege of life, for the joy of being loved,
for the ability to make a difference in the affairs
of my community, for the opportunity to be
with them in a stained glass discussion of
transformation and closure, its brilliant saturation
of red wine, and fruit, of fading green leaves
and emerging evergreens a breathtaking
spectacle in sacred sunlight
from a painted blue sky!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
ENCHANT ME!
(A Contemporary Animist’s Prayer)
To the shared breath of life:
Enchant me!
Whisper to me in the cadence and rhymes,
the deeper susurrations of this tellurian realm
with its numinous places that already call out
my name!
Talk to me about my mother and father and
the wonderful moment that I came to be and
their scary audacious aspirations for me
Talk to me about my brothers and sisters, my
neighbors and friends, my mentors and guides
and the myriad ways they have helped me
to be
And when I waiver beneath the awesome
requirements of being a man in this precious
precarious era and place, speak softly to
my wife who knows all that I am and whose
daily decision to share and engage makes me
sacred and solid, a community elder whose
wisdom and hope, whose experience and love
might counter the insults, the violence and lies;
the revenge, the injustice and depth of despair
that passes for normal in the toxic discourse
of our once open and wonderful land!
Spare me the discourse of the liberal intellect,
the conservative truth, the academic exploration,
the Anglo-German Protestant search for consensus
among key words and concepts and peer-reviewed
papers that garner our tenure at a safe enough
distance from the problems at hand!
Walk away now from the carefully crafted and
cold equivocation, the intellectual ambivalence,
the postmodern preference for the appearance of
process even as the have-nots are hassled and
harried, held down and hammered in our poisonous
patterns of policies, procedures and participatory
practices which, guaranteed to fail, we visit
on the poor - shameful behaviors revealing our
reluctance to do the right thing and to do the
right thing, right now!
Remind me of a time when animal and plant,
wet earth and stone, the explosive attributes of
water and fire and the breezes we breathe, were
souls intertwined, long before the concepts of
resource extraction, subsidized extinction,
persecution of the other, and the profitable rituals
of slow suicide……
Help me return to the restless pulsations of an
earlier time when the jaguar and lion, as fierce as
they were, were no match for the spears, the
dark painted faces, the muscular commitment that
protected the fires of the community at night
but admitted any strangers in fear their lives
Help me return to my ancestral world of the drum
and the poem, of the dance and the hunt, the animistic
perspective of the human condition as a shared
breath of life among embodied souls in a
shimmering world!
Then enchant me and make me complicit!
Help me sing and contribute to the generous rhythms
of fearless intent, where the tough and the confident
make room once again for the tired, the poor,
the different, the lost, the ambitious, the driven
and the irresistible evolution of the concept of “WE”,
not us and those others but me and another, and
another, together, sacred and enduring like the
bright-burning lamp that our Lady in the Harbor
holds up to the world!
Let this come to pass, and ambivalent as I am
about the nature of God, the words on my lips
until the end of my days will be Hallelu Yah,
Hallelujah, Alleluia, Blessed Be and Amen!
To enchant: To use a “rhythmed murmur”, an incantation,
to conjure an image, to cast a spell, to take one’s soul
to a spiritual place!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
BOXER
The late October day
marked the last of the tragic
encounters framed by the ropes
he preferred to the streets where a
journeyman boxer needs more than
taped hands for the troubles he sees
There had been no title shot, no top
ten ranking, just fifteen years of blows
to the body, to the head, to the soul -
volcanic eruptions, fissures and
earthquakes, myriad tremors in the
plate tectonics of the fist-pummeled
brain
He needed sixty more seconds of glaring
bright lights and a bored, bloody crowd
in a small-time arena in a town far away
Sensing his moment, he slipped to the
right, flicked two stinging jabs, bobbing
and weaving, then three quick strikes and
a pivot to the left that put him flat on his
feet for a violent combination with a
killing uppercut that soothed the roar in
his head, reduced the blur in his vision,
sent the menacing shadow to the canvas
for the count then left him out on the
sidewalks working, breathing hard,
dancing and pivoting like a big circus
bear, punching the air on a cold
afternoon before wary passing
strangers who tried not to notice,
in a town far away!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
POEM BY BASHO
We were quiet now,
still breathing deeply from
the sexual exertions of our
late middle age, guided by
the music, gliding toward a
landing through the ambient
haze of unconditional love
The Japanese singer with the
black eyes and hair and the
rising sun mouth, lived her
rhythm and blues through the
discipline of the koto, did a
high soaring wail as the final
jetliner of the Syracuse evening
climbed toward the moon that
was a cold silver smile above
the snow-covered city where
we daily delight in the details
of desire
Our transition into clarity
was the sonic antithesis of
a poem by Basho:
Seventeen seconds
of screaming haiku on a
February night!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
RITUAL
The anthropology professor
said Iroquois ways were a fading reflection,
a cultural trace of a poetic narrative of indigenous
wisdom, tribal traditions that marry the spirit of
a primitive people to enduring kinship with the
earth and the sky
The anthropology professor called the delicate
touch the definitive expression of intimate knowledge,
giving meaning and myth to mystical caprice in the
cardinal winds, to sustaining abundance in the deep gray
lakes of a primeval forest beneath the cyclical rhythms
of a lunar calendar that is daily affirmed
by the rising sun
The anthropology professor said the bloated
ambitions of mercantile man, the rapacious imperatives
of voracious desire, the arrogant corrective technology
of guilt which acknowledges nature as interchangeable
scenery for the story of our lives, should become like the
methods and modes of harmony, that the way of
Six Nations be the simple foundation for symbiotic
behavior in the millennium to come
And the anthropology student was twenty
and tough, a perpetual hunter, a perennial warrior,
attuned to the season of bounty and challenge, alert to
nuance of movement and sound, knew the intricate ways
of the Haudenosaunee and the signature rites that
prepared them for war
To honor the creator
he came through the mists of a cold spring morning
like wind in the trees without source or destination,
embodied the essence of some terrible presence –
an unexplained whisper in an isolated place, the feather of
a wing beyond peripheral vision, perhaps the shadow of
a serpent beyond the edge of the nerves, something too
close, something suddenly striking in the ghostly
memories of ritual violence of “the danse lacrosse”,
“dehuntshigawa’es”, baaga’adowe, a game called
begadwe, little brother of war!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
A KIND RECONSIDERATION
OF THE ABRAHAMIC FAITHS
IN A DIFFICULT TIME
I
I am interested in Moses,
the baby in the bulrushes
who eventually was able
to speak truth to power and
delivered his people to a
promised land
I am interested in Saul and
David and Solomon and a just
administration of a precarious
culture under Yahweh or El
in a dangerous location in the
antiquarian world
I understand (intellectually) the
desperate need during Babylonian
captivity for bringing folk tale and myth
and political history into a culture-specific
definition of law for the wandering
shepherd, the tiller of land, and the
unyielding monotheist whose Covenant
with God made some people right and
other people wrong!
II
I am interested, too
in a brown-skinned man of fiery
intelligence from the City of Nazareth who,
though an ordinary Jew, managed eloquently
to speak truth to power about spirit
and duty, about service to all, and unconditional
love, and shattered the framework of codified law,
be it Jewish or Roman, in a dangerous location in
the antiquarian world
I am sorry for the way that his messages
were gathered, re-worked and distorted, codified
and written as an alarming New Testament with
an unfathomable trinity and the adornments
of empire making some people righteous and
other folks wrong and trapping so many souls
between heaven and hell!
III
I am also interested
in the merchant of Mecca who saw in his
people the uplifting potential of a civilization
grounded deeply in the guidance of a merciful
God in a dangerous place in the antiquarian world
The impetus to “recite” led to unity of tribes
through the codification of “final” revelations
from the “seal of the prophets” that made some
people right and other folks wrong as the good
word of Allah was spread from the Atlantic to
the borders of China, from the savannahs of
Africa to the steep southern slopes of the
mountains of Europe
IV
The powerfully seductive
Abrahamic religions, bound by
“The Book” of Tenakh and New Testament
“sealed” by Quran, have comforted many
since their explosive beginnings in the Sinai,
the Judean, the Arabian deserts that were
dangerous locations in the antequarian world
But the codification that renders the law
understandable to the many, but makes some
people right and so many people wrong can easily
lead us to isolation and conflict, to conquest and
oppression, an uncomfortable confinement in
doctrine and ritual that splinters humankind into
the spiritual antithesis of the one shared breath our
animistic ancestors thought united all life!
Perhaps the global transmission of folk tales
and myth and political history about spirit and
duty, about service to all and unconditional love
can be available to all without the codification
of doctrine and ritual that make us righteous
and isolated soldiers of god when all of us could
be such determined disseminators of kindness,
cooperation and love for one another and stewards
of the life giving forces at hand
V
The entirety of this planet is a dangerous
place in contemporary times when
a capricious, arrogant and dangerous presence
patrols the streets of my beloved community with
its vicious attack dogs Carbon, Climate-Change
and Covid, who menace my neighbors without
mercy or constraint
But the human condition is a slowly evolving
divine work of art, a sacred creation, a spiritual
journey in a numinous place, and its cumulative
voice is a gospel ensemble assuring ourselves that,
Abrahamic or not, our good stewardship is gonna
rise up and shine, gonna do the right thing,
gonna make it alright on this contentious blue
sphere where we thrive and survive!
If there is a creator and benevolent mentor
even half as engaged as these well-meaning
religions vehemently and desperately proclaim,
may it respond to our prayers and offer
us guidance in these difficult times
on how to do better than we do!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET: PART FOUR
ALMERÍA / UMM AL-MARIYA 2007 AD / 1427 AH
The traveler who journeys to the City of Almería
arrives at a port where the routes of the ferries,
the whitecaps and waves, the salt-leaden gusts in
the searing white heat, the sculptures of dolphins
manifested at play on the boulevard perpendicular
to the sterns of great ships, reveal windows and
mirrors in which every reflection is a perplexing
distortion, generating questions impossible to
answer with the images at hand
Ciudad Almería is Umm Al-Mariya,
A city with barrios named Al-Musalá, Al-Medina,
Al-Haud, where visionary souls at the College of
Architects draw invisible lines from the markets of Fez
the minarets of Essaouira to the courtyards and gardens
of an Andalusia making paradise landscapes of red tiles
and roses, wrought-iron and jasmine, and burbling
fountains as seductive as the curvature of Arabic script;
where every dark eye under every headscarf, under
every skull cap, beneath flat-brimmed sombreros and
every dark curl blowing free in the breezes between
mountains and sea, sees only itself colored café con
leche, burned walnut by sunlight, yet never identical to the
likenesses imagined when they think of themselves;
and where luminous women with irresistible smiles
think in African tongues and laugh loudly in public, look
you straight in the eye and in their accented Spanish
offer no explanation for the browning of Spain
The intelligent observer see ships every day
link Morocco and Algeria with Al-Andalus, their
sleek silhouettes mimic seabirds and dolphins,
their windows and lights and the curves of their hulls
a mosaic of facets which, distorted by water, make city
and the sea seem a shimmering collage taunting resident
and visitor with fragmented images of who he once was
and who she might become, but never an inkling of
who they are now!
Emanuel Carter
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
ORCA
He erupts from the water
in a triumphant roll, slicing
moist air with his black fins and tail,
disappearing once more in
an explosion of diamonds as salt spray
and sun
He arrives every year when this warm
bay is pregnant, giving birth to new stories
of survival and death
The epitome of orca, his warm-blood
intelligence maneuvers like a spirit
through the muscular restlessness of
heaving gray seas that are the waters of
his days, where he’s powerful and elusive
gliding through the ocean like the shadow
of a presence in the absence of light
where he’s fluid and flexible, always
solid and smooth, as if the structure of
stone might be hydrodynamic, somehow
shaping and shaped by the contours of
water curving over his body, carrying the
chatter of echolocation and revealing his
dorsal as a signature in black, that
gray whale and great shark, and all else
who might dare, know the orcas are
back, that the family of the
owner is in residence
once more
Emanuel Carter
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET: PART ONE
GIBRALTAR / DJEBEL-TARIQ 711 AD / 92 AH
In the eyes of the hawk
Djebel Musa to Djebel Tariq
is the tactical distance across the
turbulent waters where the blue
Mediterranean meets the
endless blue sea
The dark swirling currents and
the threatening waves, mediate
traffic between the east and the west
like a vigilant father in a Numidian tribe,
and like a doting negassa, chaperone
a wedding at the Rock of Gibraltar to
marry the landscapes of Africa and
Europe, stir the chaotic brooding of
Christianity’s north with the volatile
moods and enraptured exuberance of Arab
and Berber, soon Tuareg and Black, the
stormier winds of Maghreb and mission
from the Islamic south,
and on this new day as a military favor
to the warrior Tariq, mask the
gathering sounds of derbouka, sagat,
war-horse and armor, zurna, al-oud,
turban, tunic and the long curved sword
at the sharp leading edge of a shining
idea which, like a flaming sharuq of
faith and surrender from Djebel-Tariq
to the Guadalquivir, from the Guadiana
north to the Tagos and Duero, to the
Ebro and the Pyrenees, the territory
beyond, through the chasms and
gorges of the disintegrating map of
the Hispano-Romano, Visigoth and
Vandal, will conceal Ano Domini
beneath Hijriyyah in a new land
of Allah called Al-Andalus
Sharuq (Arabic): A hot dusty humid southeast wind in southern Europe that begins in the Sahara and picks up moisture as it crosses the Mediterranean. Spanish: Sirocco. Italian: Scirocco
Emanuel Carter
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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Emanuel Carter Poem
BE CAREFUL
Be careful what you ask for
One day life is simple, you ask
a female colleague at a partnering
organization not to call you “doctor”,
“professor” and such, then she says
your name the way a symphony orchestra
tears into the finale of a spirited overture
by Tchaikovsky or Rossini and suddenly
your feeling like the primus pilus, the
first violin, the anchor baton, the broad-
shouldered stroke in an eight-oared shell
or the seminal man with genes of genius
in his jeans: powerful, confident, perhaps
dangerously exposed – a burden you
don’t need
If you’re only doing business,
let formality play its role!
Copyright © Emanuel Carter | Year Posted 2021
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