I fall in love with words. And I’m pretty promiscuous about it — no single one holds my interest exclusively. I’m kind of a polygamous word lover, I guess. Much of my writing evolves out of word love affairs.
One that I love is noösphere. I love the idea of human knowledge changing the world — it’s pretty Buddhist, if you think about it. That what we know impacts the world around us, changes even the way things happen, how they evolve. Another reason for right action.
So today’s poem is an ode to a word, in its own odd way. I’m always hesitant to say what a poem is, because nothing is that simple. Like knowledge. Like Buddhism…
There is so little that I know for sure
The drawers in my head spill
Steampunk trivia, the welded artifacts
Of brassy surety and broken glass
Shards and diamante crystals
I could dress a storefront window
With the Thai silk I wore to a ball
My mother’s sequined shell, the scarlet
Feathers of a fan I never bought. No
Rhyme or reason, only the seasons
Of a curiousity.
If there is a boundary, a membrane
That surrounds the pulsing ectoplasm
Of the human heart, I have lived for years
On the other side of darkness. Sifting
With my greedy fingers through what
We cannot know or learn.
Loose pearls hide in the dark corners
Of a rosewood chest, remind me of daily pain
Someone told me would become
My strength. While the winter’s geese cut
The blue Oklahoma sky with their wings