Poem: In the Beginning


by Debi

in the beginning
a god-breathed whole
holy and holistic
I wanted so much
the mysteries of earth
the people who walked
out of paradise
destroyed burned
when the final darkness comes
neither you nor I were ready
blowing up
falling down
bombs and tombs
holes and horrific
at the end


Poem: The End of the World

This was written in response to a gallery exhibition at the University of Washington Bothell called “Particles on the Wall” which had artwork and poetry created in response to the Handford nuclear site in Washington State.  I wandered back through the gallery a second time and wrote down images and phrases that were either inspired by the work, or seen in the poetry, thus creating a response to the totality of the exhibition.


The End of the World
by Debi

I forgive
I forgive
I must forgive

Shall I show you how we dressed our wounds?
downwater downriver
terminal winds
leaking glowing circling dying

someone launched
someone drove
someone fished
and never knew

easy to bury
in the late afternoon
dragged home
bedded down
the rest of us slept
in the river’s shadow

half a million years til Spring
what fossils will the future find?
we have gone blind
we are blind
the desert eats dust
a rabbit digs its own grave

obsolete history
drafted history
voided history
closed history
engineered history

restart
by dawn’s light

origami made from living flesh
unrecognizable
graying

the children unborn
carrying on the family business
cleaning up the waste
from the death beds of their fathers

this is my blood
a chalice of death
the last power
the final cover up

Every time … but it never is


pathway (2)

Photo by Debi


 

Every time … but it never is.

Every time a car slows by the house,
I run to see if it’s you.
Anytime my phone rings,
I hope it’s you.
When Facebook says I have a message,
I pray it’s you.

But it’s never your car.
Never your call.
Never your message.

Every time … but it never is.

But it is always … sadness.
Always pain.
Always grief.
Always tears.

And every time …
it is always

alone.


Erasure: Revolution

Erasure poem: Source Youth Challenges by Clarence B Kelland
by Debi


Revolution

poor working-men
descendants
compelled to become lowly
themselves
beliefs handed down
until wrenched
into tradition
alterations
to the leveling tradition
elevating of equality
perhaps hers
had risen beyond
the whole-souled
revolutionist father
of her family

Notebook Cento #4


Sometimes I go back through my notebooks from Graduate school and make centos (collage poems) from phrases I find in the pages.   This is the fourth of a series of centos from my notebooks.


Notebook Cento #4
by Debi

drunken babbling
self-consciousness
does it get in the way?
humility
arrogance
self-confidence
we need to move beyond
in opposite ways
the same thing


Notebook Cento #3


Sometimes I go back through my notebooks from Graduate school and make centos (collage poems) from phrases I find in the pages. This is the third of the series of centos from my notebooks.


Notebook Cento #3
by Debi

distance ———- home
love is in the mind
happens again and again
there are known unknowns
and unknown knowns
everyone lives parenthetically
do you have to work for it?
how much do you want it?
layers of imagery
presentation
representation
is any poem with footnotes
a mixed genre work?


Erasure: gods

Erasure poem – sourced from Clouds by Aristophones
by Debi


gods

we commanded
then declared
dreadful things openly
an evening
beautiful
a torch the moonlight
but observe correctly
confuse the gods
threatening
when they are defrauded
the regular feast
the number of days
sacrificing
inflicting
gods are litigating
laughing
reason obtained afterward
deprived
gods
know better
to spend the days
according to the Moon

Notebook Cento #2

Sometimes I go back through my notebooks from Graduate school and make centos (collage poems) from phrases I find in the pages.   This is the second of a series of centos from my notebooks.


Notebook Cento #2
by Debi

justify the story
what will serve you
formal constraints
dialogue
punctum
multi-faceted narrative
help us
guide us

fiction’s fuckin’ gone
facing the end
walk off the grief
behind the tear duct


Notebook Cento #1

Sometimes I go back through my notebooks from Graduate school and make centos (collage poems) from phrases I find in the pages.  Yes, I create found poetry from my own personal notes.  Yes, I’m that obsessed with phrases.  Yes, I’m that crazy about writing centos.  🙂  This is the first of what will probably be a short series of centos from my notebooks.


Notebook Cento #1
by Debi

metaphysical sonnet
part of a new style
context embedded within
the poem keeps  moving
walking                 pacing
within the creative work
practical           theoretical
just keeps            moving
think about this
formal                   analytical
there is     real     meaning
whether we know it      or not
Basho        keeps        moving
Dante     ruminates


Continue the cento series here: Notebook Cento #2

Random Word Experiments


When pigs fly
In pig’s eye
Don’t deny
Win pop fly


Junk is no good, baby.
Is no junk good, baby?
No good baby is junk.
No baby is good junk.
Junk baby is no good.
Baby junk is good, no?
No junk is good, baby.
Is baby good junk?  No.
Good baby is no junk.
Good junk is no baby.
No, baby. Junk is good.


the earth
the heart
here that
thee hart
tree hath
there hat
here that
hehe tart
tehe hart
he, the art
he, the tar
he, the rat
the hater


In the mysteries of Earth.
Of the Earth in mysteries.
Of mysteries in the Earth.
In the Earth of mysteries.
In mysteries of the Earth