2013 Fall Arts – Poetry Night


And one of those things is what do you
know what is God and I gave a reading last week and this this girl her
question in the Q&A was who is God or who do you think is God or something
like that and of course I didn’t haven’t answer to that but of course I tried to
answer that’s the funny thing somebody somebody said I think it was actually a
Canadian said that no matter what you ask an American they will answer it they
will try to answer it so again I see myself playing that out so I want to
read a couple of well one poem in which I tried another way of saying okay what
it who what is this idea we have but we don’t we only have this kind of an
adequate word for it and and yet we just have a feeling it has to be there is
something there but we don’t know exactly what anyway this wasn’t one of
those efforts and it’s called the process it’s also the one of the
problems I run in trying to do this is that you have to use a pronoun if you
use a pronoun he then you you get all the women mad at you and have used the
pronoun she they charge you with all kinds of radical ideas about feminism
and then if you use it that just destroys, oh dear, anyway in this one I
decided to use she so don’t, men just tolerate this please, the process first
she gave all that she carried in her arms setting those trinkets down easily
then she removed her scarlet sash and gave it 4 bandage her scarf for
blindfold her shawl her handkerchief for shroud she let her violent kimonos
slipped from her shoulders giving it to because it was warm and could surround
in rap like dusk and because it held her dark river night swimmer fragrances
tight in the deep stiches of it seems and she cut off her hair offering its
strands for weaving for pillow lining talisman for solace she gave her
bracelets the Rings from her fingers those circles of gold jingling like
crickets those loops of silver chiming like spring and gave her hands as well
her fingers the way they could particularize her feet and their
balance her legs and their stride she relinquished and her belly her thighs
her lap wide empty open as a prairie her breasts full of sunlight like peaches
and honey like sucker she gave away her bones rib cage for scaffold spine
small or knuckles for kindling for sparks for flame and what remained her
face her visage reflective transparent as sky she gave and even her word her
name its echo until all everything was given and everything received and she
was no one gone nothing God.

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