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'68 | |||
The Day of the Dead, Mexico | The Day of the Dead, Mexico | ||
Cheeks puffed full as fat old Wind's, | Cheeks puffed full as fat old Wind's, | ||
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While the children shout and tumble about | While the children shout and tumble about | ||
In the tree with the octupus arms. | In the tree with the octupus arms. | ||
Beside a grave gay with white flowers | Beside a grave gay with white flowers | ||
The women are sharing their bread, | The women are sharing their bread, | ||
They shake with laughter as they draw nearer | They shake with laughter as they draw nearer | ||
To that democratic Day of the Dead. | To that democratic Day of the Dead. | ||
Now each family is complete: | Now each family is complete: | ||
Dead lovers to the loved appear, | Dead lovers to the loved appear, | ||
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And the children shout and tumble about | And the children shout and tumble about | ||
In the tree with the octupus arms. | In the tree with the octupus arms. | ||
Brown tears from blood-brown candles drip, | Brown tears from blood-brown candles drip, | ||
The flames boast, "We are immortal", | The flames boast, "We are immortal", | ||
And blaze around the homemade box | And blaze around the homemade box | ||
Of one only ten days mortal. | Of one only ten days mortal. | ||
A favored family kneels and weeps-- | A favored family kneels and weeps-- | ||
Wealthy and poor here are the same-- | Wealthy and poor here are the same-- | ||
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But the children shout and tumble about | But the children shout and tumble about | ||
In the tree with the octupus arms. | In the tree with the octupus arms. | ||
Petals pale as a midday moon, | Petals pale as a midday moon, | ||
A cross in wilting petals dressed | A cross in wilting petals dressed | ||
Alone on a mound of trampled earth | Alone on a mound of trampled earth | ||
Which humble hands have blessed. | Which humble hands have blessed. | ||
Penny candles, glad little suns, | Penny candles, glad little suns, | ||
Light a darkening village under a spreading tree | Light a darkening village under a spreading tree | ||
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As the children shout and tumble about | As the children shout and tumble about | ||
In the tree with the octupus arms. | In the tree with the octupus arms. | ||
Lynn Perry-Miller | Lynn Perry-Miller | ||
[[hand-written]] loverly, Lynn | |||
Host and Guest | Host and Guest | ||
Born from a thawing chunk on the warm hearth, | Born from a thawing chunk on the warm hearth, | ||
it reconnoitered my room to the south | it reconnoitered my room to the south sill | ||
to roost above a river of register heat | to roost above a river of register heat | ||
and fold its wings, a metamorphosed worm. | and fold its wings, a metamorphosed worm. | ||
Here was a visitor a poet could afford, | Here was a visitor a poet could afford, | ||
a speckled bit of flight as calm as a flower | a speckled bit of flight as calm as a flower | ||
that seemed to live on broken bits of sunbeam--- | that seemed to live on broken bits of sunbeam--- | ||
ultra-violet lunch and infra-sunset supper! | ultra-violet lunch and infra-sunset supper! | ||
My snow-salted pines were gauged by tiny eyes | My snow-salted pines were gauged by tiny eyes | ||
whose sun-taught body poised for sunny slopes, | whose sun-taught body poised for sunny slopes, | ||
denying those drifts (fallen clouds, hard mist?) | denying those drifts (fallen clouds, hard mist?); | ||
but I who happened to be the temporal host, | but I who happened to be the temporal host, | ||
I waited on pensive wings a week, two weeks, | I waited on pensive wings a week, two weeks, | ||
bringing lettuce, apple and pumpkin rind, | bringing lettuce, apple and pumpkin rind, | ||
jailing my lonely angelic insect from its faith. | jailing my lonely angelic insect from its faith. | ||
O airy flesh and wing-borne dreams, | O airy flesh and wing-borne dreams, | ||
how evilly I kept you here, | how evilly I kept you here, | ||
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Charles Miller | Charles Miller | ||
Charlie | Charlie | ||
Best, from an old butterfly! | Best, from an old butterfly! - pulque -fed. | ||
How's Gladys? | How's Gladys? | ||
Latest revision as of 04:17, 21 July 2023
'68 The Day of the Dead, Mexico Cheeks puffed full as fat old Wind's, Brown woman round from head to bare toe Blows life into the censer breathing Blue musk over her man below, While the children shout and tumble about In the tree with the octupus arms.
Beside a grave gay with white flowers The women are sharing their bread, They shake with laughter as they draw nearer To that democratic Day of the Dead.
Now each family is complete: Dead lovers to the loved appear, Brothers, grandmas, mothers' spirits come For the reunion of the year, And the children shout and tumble about In the tree with the octupus arms.
Brown tears from blood-brown candles drip, The flames boast, "We are immortal", And blaze around the homemade box Of one only ten days mortal.
A favored family kneels and weeps-- Wealthy and poor here are the same-- And their rich tears fall on loose fresh dirt, Still thick on the tongue his name, But the children shout and tumble about In the tree with the octupus arms.
Petals pale as a midday moon, A cross in wilting petals dressed Alone on a mound of trampled earth Which humble hands have blessed.
Penny candles, glad little suns, Light a darkening village under a spreading tree Where, in meeting, the living and the dead Come alive on this day, As the children shout and tumble about In the tree with the octupus arms.
Lynn Perry-Miller hand-written loverly, Lynn
Host and Guest Born from a thawing chunk on the warm hearth, it reconnoitered my room to the south sill to roost above a river of register heat and fold its wings, a metamorphosed worm.
Here was a visitor a poet could afford, a speckled bit of flight as calm as a flower that seemed to live on broken bits of sunbeam--- ultra-violet lunch and infra-sunset supper!
My snow-salted pines were gauged by tiny eyes whose sun-taught body poised for sunny slopes, denying those drifts (fallen clouds, hard mist?); but I who happened to be the temporal host, I waited on pensive wings a week, two weeks, bringing lettuce, apple and pumpkin rind, jailing my lonely angelic insect from its faith.
O airy flesh and wing-borne dreams, how evilly I kept you here, secure from your snowscape of belief! Charles Miller Charlie Best, from an old butterfly! - pulque -fed. How's Gladys?