PRELUDE & FUGUE 33/

four pale sets of lips
rimmed in frost
prayer flags and the Potala

*   *   *

prayer flags and Potala of burning Buddhas
in rocky arena “251,” plus that Tibetan Red Tara’s
recipe for Himalayan incense prayer flags and

the Potala of burning Buddhas in rocky “251”
four burning bushes in the recipe for Himalayan incense
prayer flags plus Tibetan Red Tara recipe for incense

four burning bushes, four pale sets of lips
the Himalayan prayer flags and the Potala recipe
names “251,” plus the rimmed frost of burning

Buddhas in a rocky arena of four burning bushes
prayer flags and the four pale sets of lips
as recipe for Himalayan incense prayer flags

rimmed in frost of burning Buddhas, Hari Om Tat Sat:
the hairy WHAT? pale sets of lips burning
Red Tara in a prayer flag recipe from the Potala

~*~

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.

DEMANDING LIGHT

September 11 weighs heavily
we ask if the reasons for war have changed in our era
we look at ongoing “civil wars” and the many faces of oppression
government actions give only lip service
against violent actions while committing expensive resources
to military actions
widespread conflicts continue over wealth, resources, and identities
often cast as religion
here is one case where I’ll argue Marx
see the disparity
between rich and the poor
will always generate strife

*   *   *

Islam struggles
between fundamentalists and moderates
over its future
more than the book
or ethnic identity

*   *   *

O Holy One, we dare not neglect the imperative
of waging peace, deploying appropriate resources
“for our struggle is not against the enemies of blood and flesh,
but against … the cosmic powers of this present darkness,
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places”
in this larger struggle, where we demand Light

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.

PROCESSIONAL

an agenda
old business, new business, negotiations, nominations
and new business

to lay out our varied projects,
without all these miles between us half of the time

the grace of the functional line
a keel, a shaft
the arrow or passage itself

Joy & Anger

parked on a downtown street

strewn with flowers or
the time when everything of ours can be in one place

a lobster in a wineglass

a speedometer

an early SAAB fitted for racing

an antique light bulb, a glowing vacuum tube

the interior design
to accommodate mechanisms and man

a hand reaching upward

a bowl of imperfect apples

An avid Sox fan.

a slew of calls
a slew of dolls
a slew of idols

a double-blade broad ax

after that day on Plum Island

I’ve never again looked
at a kite or a diaper
quite the same

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of
Partitas, click here.

COILING, IN THE SHELL

1

to speak of romance and sinking
hand-in-hand couples
approach
as a candlelight dinner
more than tragedy

the golden love I viewed as a lighthouse
my lighthouse
one of two back in Ohio, Ashtabula
marking
my own shipwreck, as well

in another history, Capt. Heman Smith
(He-Man), of Colonial Eastham
established a fire akin to a spire
(the latter, perchance with a clock
or weathervane)

marking time, the years

Chatham Light
2 white flashes
every 10 seconds

(2 bulbs revolving close together
followed by long silence)

originally from twin tower
steel shell with brick interior

2

which way the wind now?
the lifeline, the hymn
“Pilot me!”

3

aloof temples
to sails and rigging
extreme discomfort, sacrifice

in the dangerous occupation
to be murdered within sight of shore
once the storm broke

not just rock and water
but wind, especially
unpredictable, these potential

remote ruins of antiquity
American abbeys
at the confluence, hence

the fire in its crown, its eye
resolutely
facing up to uncertainty

4

one night, entranced by movement
in three rectangles of soft light
in the keeper’s house, considering
the occasional guest on the island
maybe a window with a wafting curtain
or secretive figure moving to the side

daylight revealing
only a pole with Old Glory
in front
of those three panels

more than the custom house
or harbormaster
this reminder of deception

nobody sees far into the water
and often little of what’s upon it

trade and fishing, mostly
occasional cruise castle or
the warship or well-known pirate

(death lurking below
in the rocks,
in the clouds and fog)

say what you will of radar, sonar
and satellite positioning
but life, love, and politics
remain fragile

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems,
click here.

ALL ON A WING, MOSTLY

already the goldfinches are losing their bright yellow,
shifting over to their “traveling clothes” …

cardinal flower still scarlet … the sunflowers nearly past …
will we have any pumpkins in this crazy year?

blue jays as monkey birds squawking

a stream of crows, maybe a hundred, all headed south
(the ten thousand roosting together in a cemetery, how spooky)

admiring the white gull against blue sky
and the black band on its wing

four white droplets fall away and vanish
never seen that before!

today, two large hawks, soaring

now-dun finches at the feeder

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
For more,
click here.

PRELUDE & FUGUE 31/

a turtle sniffs
a box turtle shell
of blue spotted turtles

*   *   *

life out of a silly overnight bag
is getting me disoriented as much as sleeping
peasants with Mrs. Kerry form a turtle shell squall line

behind golden marsh hay, life out of a silly
overnight bag is disorienting
the sleeping peasants with Mrs. Kerry on a turtle shell

a squall line behind golden marsh hay life
out of a silly overnight bag has me disoriented
with sleeping peasants or Mrs. Kerry

on a turtle shell squall line behind golden marsh hay

waiting to dive to the river woven into a pouch
a turtle sniffs a petroglyph figure squall line
of blue spots painted on sunglasses

with slumber waiting to dive to the river
a petroglyph figures sunglasses woven into a pouch
are a squall line sleeping with the turtle

sniffing blue spots painted into waiting
that dives to the river petroglyph figure
sleeping behind sunglasses in a box

woven into a pouch a turtle sniffs
the awaited dive to the river
squall line of blue spots

paints a petroglyph figure on sunglasses
woven into a pouch with a squall line
of sleeping blue turtles sniffing a spotted box

~*~

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.

POLONAISE

ballet dancer en point in imitation of Winged Victory
upholding her billowing banner

long-winged owl in flight

the double-yellow banded highway
entering green Romance

safe and dry before the deluge

will she dive into the pool
or just jump
after posing with her arms outstretched

“overwhelmed” or “swamped” fits the bill better these days

or remains locked up within synapses of thy cranium and heart
the little mysteries complicate our existence
give it minor excitement or turmoil

behind the apricot, white grape, and plum tomato
sake labels

a long flat stone
spans the meandering pond
of a Japanese garden

passing the gift-energy

oh, how you, too, bound eastward

this scream
from cascading streams
together, on fragile new wings
surely left out some news

to find rumors about us subsiding

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of
Partitas, click here.

WORKS, WORTH

not by intent, exactly, when repairing rotten sill
and ripping away needless wires
strung overhead, but under the floor

at times, a two-man job, with banter

still, keep an eye open for the unanticipated byproduct
in this case, a jest
envisioning a beer and wine cellar under the kitchen

nothing fancy, but acknowledging
the homebrew art
and gratitude for a place to age bottles decently
as for the wine, a house rule price limit
imposed by a glutted market

in season, the bulkhead would open its wings
on the shaded grilling garden, to the north,
or its cavern of contemplation within

a place of solitude and spiders
Squirrel would frequent

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Home Maintenance poems,
click here.