poem – Page 263 – Ciscography

Yggdrasil

When I see the ash I always pause
to admire its strong, primitive grace,
its carboniferous-like leaves,

those impressions I might find
in a piece of coal.
And when I stand underneath,

placing my palm on the grooved bark,
I think of Woden
who hung himself here in a tempest,

like a questioning proto-Christ,
intent on finding answers. The runes.
I rest my spine against the bole,

asking the energy to flow through
as I gaze up into the blue,
dappled through countless greens.

But I find no runes strewn hereabouts,
no answers at all,
merely a branch snapped off in a storm.

I will take it home to carve and to care,
before setting out once more
to taste this electric air.

Corpus Christi
(for Kit Marlowe)

A voice calls from across the cold centuries,
a harsh whisper in my ear.

There is merit in what he says,
enduring years of indoctrination,

speaking out against that which bore him.
The town of empty palaces, of inordinate wealth,

forcing him to re-position,
to consider the advocacy of freedom,

though mere anarchy in the eyes of the state.
But wait, before you all condemn,

just as a spy must provoke and take a stance,
so a playwright may also be a player.

Does he ask, ‘what kind of world could this be?
What pure lives might we lead?’

If only we could accept the sight before us –
the corruptible body of Christ.

Tag: poem