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Thursday, January 6, 2022

Michael Lee Rattigan and a Fridge-Door to Heaven, A Tree's Seamless Hem, And A Cross Lit From Behind

Lines in Search of…   




foreign welcome       a switch on language never learned   


prayer for those who sleep in strips of cloth       a sought-for question 


a tear-polished image       a picture scribbled on a fridge-door to heaven.  










Reparation




the eyes’ warmth


or heart’s milk pouring


down the neck


a tree’s seamless hem


spanning


to replace or repair








Eucharist




sky-cornered blossom’s comprehensive dazzle


bridging the way to will




the base of a cross lit from behind


wishing to be raised




golden-silver-white script’s


conquering sign








Michael Lee Rattigan (Caterham, UK) is a poet and translator who has lived and taught in Mexico and Spain. He translated the first complete collection of Fernando Pessoa's Alberto Caeiro poems (Rufus Books, 2007) and contributed to the Selected Writings of César Vallejo (Wesleyan Press, 2015). He is the author of two poetry collections, Liminal (Rufus Books, 2012) and Hiraeth (Black Herald Press, 2016).

Monday, January 3, 2022

Miguel Escobar Guides Us Through The Familiar Trappings Of An Apocalypse, A Gold Rush Chaos Flash, And The Aftermath Of A Pleasure Cruise

EXERCISE TO INVOKE AN UNTESTED FORM OF ACTUAL COGNITION


the movement between truth and     no longer 

the not exactly     a grey spectacle what unfolds 


a question     of     consciousness’ presence as

 narrator     affixed like     appendage     the new 

as it breaks         one more        rigamarole 


could this be it     what         others proclaim

 an apocalypse     with such     familiar trappings 


leave it to the beavers     to build dams     bask 

in sunlight     with their         accomplishment 


because     where are we     purveyors     of failed 

condos     when from         a concurrent     sidebar 

clarity presents     and it is mommy dearest     you 


not quitting your     day job                     guarding 

a semblance     of     destiny     writ black     and inky 


yet even as     everything around you         twirls 

in the air     balanced             behind the scenes 

you know   the drill   don’t you s      staying alive 


the clatter     of dishes     being         cleared by 

a busgirl     the crystal  with residue   of tomato

 and spent lemon wedge                to   scent air 

itself     already                 colored by     sea salt


 this is where consciousness chose to         arrest

 you   lead you through a maze     to     a     cell 

proclaim   all  your   needs   met             except 

                                          just possibly the one



SUMMONING A PRINCESS OR TWO


don’t ask was voiced but in the head    calling 

the meal Porridge       quaint micro       morph 

to the macro meta                 walk a thing back


 into childhood                                from grains 

& oats the safe familiar     enter               Funge 

it is not like     UFOs   or anything        meaning 


believing in them     says       we might   dare go 

ignite  some other  form of cognition     Thomas

the Bahamian does not go in VIP         or even 


in Focused for that matter     for the paradox of 

a ban on iconoclast art      segue          to when

irony is dubbed a thing verboten           witness 


my relationship     to mail     sent     from     this 

Blackberry       insert woman fishing thru purse 

insert beer so good it amazes     the city as We 


the city as We!     going through the roof     on 

every metric       here is what you need to know 

    except you don’t     gold rush     chaos  flash 


everything dead                        a true princess 

                           awe  this  one  lifetime knew 

                                                                   her 


a voice demanding     clarification     but only

 of sorts in all honesty     the whole of history

is a paraphrase     a repetition of only  France 


between untimely deaths                 an actress 

and her role     one of a lifetime         consider 

parallel wisps of clouds rise         from statues 


upended                                        death given 

meaning         a thing       outside         oneself 

incense             in veins               & tea leaves 


the city as We!                             the city as We 

                                       who find      cognition

                                                       transparent


 the question of outliers                         scores to 

settle rampant speculation     as to            a thing 

                                                     beyond grasp


                                    a missing metaphor 

                               that makes you         ache



A NARRATIVE WANTING TO PASS FOR A THING CALLED LIVING


inside a whirr of constant creation spinning black lace

what the daring system attempts outside

spreads 

across the map     no longer paper    no longer dark ink 


gauge         from horrid aftermath of a pleasure cruise

the true meaning of pleasure 

everywhere you look 

nakedness is    voluptuous   alive     using     the wind 


choose a context even a cover-up or         a hoped for 

conceit     resurrect into     a lifetime              arrive at 

the soon to be preordained

stripped        of        what


 incessant everything lobbies hard to be 

something mattering 

a shade-less lightbulb to the stars gawking 

curious anti-shadow   to the spy     the cold    the bleak

 

back alleys             the side deemed wrong

a narrative

 wanting to pass for a thing called living         departed 

notion      of a theme           for the statuesque to bridge 


perception of the wide gulf                as any number of 

distant scenarios appearing     to     dissipate        rather 

than crumbling                 doubts surface      once more 


morphed from a time      years ago               when father

turned out to be                                                     mortal 


                                                                 and then again 

                                                    mother the same 

                                                                            the both 


deducing   the moral   of any      random               parable 

plays tricks                        might you       be fully destined 

to always         barely just                               discern them 


you may think                            you’re still about this thing 

only         break lapse  to find                                     newly 

prescient                                     one   actual   gulf   omitted



Miguel Escobar’s poems have appeared on-line at Vext Magazine, Diaphanous Press Fall 2017, Diaphanous Micro 2.5, Luciole Press, in the Wordpress blog community, as well as in smallish literary/art circles on social media both since late 2015 as well as circa 2007-2008. He resides in the northern California city of Sacramento, at the storied confluence of the American and Sacramento rivers.