.......... "The blue house had a door to somewhere else..."
.............The Poetry Of
.......................... Nabi Dorsey
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....... black light river journey
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....... lost in the fantastic
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....... the night city and
....... the pulsation of blue
....... and red lights
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....... we are securely
....... woven into our flesh
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....... and bone heart
.......
....... itself a granule
....... of tightened air
....... and blood
.......
....... patted into nothing
....... from a pallete
....... of electric green
....... filaments -alive and frightening
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....... the eye can't
....... see past fear
.......
....... nor can it hold these
....... ancient banging elements
....... in its hand.
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....... so we are always lost
....... in the spiral
....... ebb and flowing
.......
....... in this watery
....... city of night.
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....... we paddle and negotiate
....... each apparent roadway,
.......
....... sniffing at the air
....... decphering the dream sky,
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....... we trust a building tension
....... in our age old muscles
.......
....... and the signals that flash
....... at us from our breastbone.
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....... cold water
.......
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....... the sky vanishes
....... in an old room,
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....... where ancestors bowls
....... cups amd rumbling voices
.......
....... planted their mirror
....... faces, and twist out time
....... cloth
....... and wring from our
....... inner body
....... a stream of fiery moisture.
.......
....... Mevlana(our teacher) the black hat master
....... does drag the frozen man
....... accross the sand
....... to the crushing cold water,
.......
....... "Cold water is where the
....... secret lover goes to find
....... a heart that's living
.......
....... -metal, stone, heat, flame
....... all those solid building blocks
.......
....... will not do, the secret lover
....... gets pulled to the wide
....... lipless shore, where the Sun
.......
....... dips its stormy head
....... and disappears into a fog."
.......
....... The house we remember,
....... where the child roamed,
.......
....... a light in his or her palm
....... shaped by the air-less faces
....... of the ghostly objects buried. . .
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....... this is my heart
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....... Circle, oh how I've
....... gotten lucky in
....... this lonely circle,
.......
....... when this cup
....... is empty
....... I ache,
....... Green stem thrust
....... through dirt,
....... my finger wriggling under
....... the loam,
....... feels the light
....... buried beyond
.......
....... what eye notes,
.......
....... I circle my chest,
....... bonfire, friends,
....... heat, even drunkness
.......
....... inside this delirious
....... fear of endless sky
.......
....... and the empty
....... - pine chest of death's
.......
....... ungarlanded presence.
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....... Main Page
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