Lessons on Self
07/15/07
At the park
The birds mimic
Hoards of summer’s children
Chirps rise and fall
As rhythmically
As the bright green jump rope
And
The little girls
With ribbons in their hair
Instead of love
And shoes on their feet
Instead of rich brown earth
Become indistinguishable from the birds
Their chirps are high pitched
And resonate
This tree is my keeper
From the sun
Who is pained
To reach me
And adore me
This afternoon
The shade is
My new companion
We are the best of pals
He sits with me
In thought then
Dreams with me
And we end in thought
Once again
Kerouac and Brodsky
Showed me the key
Puzzle piece into the
Hall way filled with doors
I escape here
And I creep and lurk
As burglars do
And steal away
Into any door that
Beckons me
“Here is knowledge!”
They bellow
“Here is wisdom”
They sing
Sirens with serenades
to thrill me or
To kill me
Where are the maidens who smile and
Cook me supper
The geishas
With their porcelain
Sex and their
Porcelain thighs
The sultry belly dancer that
Writhes like flames
Beneath me
Where are the great goddesses of yore?
The Dionysian nymphs
Filled with wine and violent pleasantries
I am the mad woman
with calloused feet
And nimble fingers
And lonely heart
I stroll with time
Through our park
And I point at great
Flowering trees
We stop,
Time and I,
To discuss the colors
And their awesome importance
We pity the blind man and
We pity the crone
I,
Because I am only sixteen
Invincible, fresh and new
Time,
Because he is infinite
And wise and
A crone is only by chance the latter
We part at
The river Styx
Where I journey on
With my satchel full
Of burdens and
Drooping heavy with sins
These I will trade with
The devil
For a woman of fine sinews
And sweet curves with
Curls in her hair and
Warmth in her hands
And for a man
With beaming,
Ubiquitous eyes
A simple smile
And sunken hips
I will take them
To the forest
And sleep upon my pedestal
And think not
Of the devil’s three heads
And his pockets
That sag with pains and
Jingle with the follies of the world
Here,
Us three,
My lovers and I
Lay upon mother Earth
Making love
Within, without
And beneath
The cosmos
To the music of
Rustling leaves
In the swollen twilight night of
Lucidity
But reality is one of many sirens
And I am only mortal
And weak
I find my way
Back to consistency
And stumble my way
Into my shell once again
Where I suppress my need
For devils and for lovers
-Paola C. Tavarez-
I am wiser now that i lost my vain muse, and found the muse w/in myself. i am hurt but i will heal.