Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Fertile Ground: Selected Poetry Read

Maurya Simon

All day the day lilies stall in the shade;
at dusk, the moon prowls the dark providences.
We have reached the in-between hour-
our bodies flow through tight crevices;
our slender feet, clever in their lightness,
step through even granite dungeons as they
float us back into the empty world.

We join hands, knowing no other solace
than breath, no comfort other than flight.
Our mission is simply to fully remember
all the catechisms of our days and nights,
and to relive our errors, one by one.
Clouds in the desert, winds in the forest:
we starve, we how our green lamentations.

What inhabits us is a hidden loss, something
we cannot speak nor name- a sorrow so rich
and fine it makes our skin translucent.
Write our etching names in the blank pages
of your hearts, or press them gently there,
like the dried petals of passion flowers.
We hold you accountable for change.

for Alex Londres and Geoff Bowers, taken by AIDS


laura salas said...

This is just lovely. The moon prowls--what a great and surprising image!

eaglewoman said...

I was just thinking about Geoff and Alex. Was in graduate school with Alex, saved a letter he wrote dealing with AIDS himself at that point, me working in AIDS in SF at the time (and for many many years). My memory of Alex is his short story writing (one story, "two for pizza" i think, was a great treatment of relationship, gay relationship without any self-consciousness---it was a relationship story that happened to be about two men), his smile, his laugh, his photography, his friendship. Alex loved Geoff so much. He would talk about Geoff and other guys but he, Alex, had eyes only for Geoff he would say. So long ago (grad school in the mid+ 70's). anyway all this to say i just googled alex and geoff and your poem came up. thank you for this. when i saw Philadelphia i didn't know at the time it was Geoff's story but i thought "this is Geoff's life!" changed for the big screen. and Alex....well that is hollywould...real life is we lost touch and reconnected and then Alex was gone. Another casualty of this society's hatred of difference. perceived difference. how we get to let people die of diseases they shouldn't die from and make lousy excuses. or bombs they shouldn't suffer and sell people on "good reasons". or they suffer and die from neglect when they should have--we all should have National Health Care and all the basics...ah well, ranting late night (for me). thanks for the poem and many blessings to you--