Showing posts with label breath. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breath. Show all posts

30 March 2020

Poem : Cockshut

Civil Twilight in Manhattan
Twilight is my favorite time of the day.

It is so cleanly between two things. So present in its liminal nature. It feels like water starting to tide. This is probably why it has a history of being "magical" or "important".

In Hinduism it is advised not to eat in this time period as the Asuras are most active at this time in their battle with the Devas. To gain power from mutability seems incredibly useful.

There are three kinds of twilight: Civil, Nautical, and Astronomical. Civil twilight is the period after sunset when things are still fully distinguishable by the naked eye, it is also called the blue hour. Nautical twilight is the period after Civil twilight when sailors can still distinguish a horizon to take measurements for position at sea. Astronomical twilight is the last phase, it is when astronomical readings can begin. When the faintest stars begin to show through the skyglow.

Cockshut is a very old English word for twilight. It literally means - the time chickens go to sleep, when they shut up.

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Cockshut

Everything is the color of things going to sleep

and that one vein in your arm that pulses under the pillow.


In the whitespace between rooms              a filament
                                                     a gap

passes unnoticed — one single silk thread of breath.


Opposite of a rooster call — a moisture

                             sliding down a single finger of grass.


The walls grow pine needles — cooling              cooling
                                                             cooling

gently —              now —              not              so gently.

26 January 2017

Poem-A-Day #332 : [I don't write political poetry - but]

[I don't write political poetry - but]

I don't write political poetry - but
breathing is political

Take it through the mouth - in - to - you
as a cave
draw rope - and tie it to the nearest tree that bends to the east
that wakes with dawn and serves only the sun

It will lower inside you - a bee
in the throat of a lily

Oddly gentle - it will come - with caveats

Words don't become politics - unless
they are traded outside these walls

The caught ball of air in your throat - will
not carbon dioxide - unless
you keep breathing

01 October 2016

Poem-A-Day #215 : Cold Spot

Cold Spot

breath                     a cold
                            space in
                          ourselves

          we don't think about breath
how much we take in and let out
     don't talk about the breathing
          done and not done

                             can you
see it today

          a simple question
is it cold outside          enough
     to see what is unseen

speak                     tell us
                         what sort
                         of seeing

           is happening
is it your insides on display
     your secret thoughts the
          kind we'd be shocked to know

is it just molecules of you
entering molecules of not you

18 July 2016

Poem-A-Day #140 : About the Moon

Today's poem leaps ahead a few years. I don't remember the evening that it is about, but I definitely understand the interest in the moon.


About the Moon (6/20/04)

I want to swallow the moon
Take in the reflective disk
so that my belly glows
with all of that stollen light

Odd cold heat churning my insides

The sound of breathing
is like gauze over glass
a softness
you cannot hear
It is reeds
in an old martial arts film

You can taste marsh water poured over rice

The pocked face of night
a circle of yellow against purple
of course it tastes of rice
seaweed and turtle soup