Natural Supernatural Love
Natural Supernatural Love
Poems
J.J.Brown
Copyright 2012 J.J.Brown
ISBN-13: 978-0-9838211-5-1
This book is also available in print at most online retailers.
For everyone who has heard the voices of nature or the supernatural.
Contents
Natural
Supernatural
Love
About the Author
Books by J.J.Brown
Natural
Cliff Face Niche
I am the pebble
falling from the crumbling cliff
and during the earthquake
I nestle into a cliff face niche
and find a life and live
knowing the space is temporary
and the earthquake is coming again
that the face of the cliff will crumble
and I will hurtle down through space
following the inexorable pull of gravity
I am the pebble
falling from the crumbling cliff
~~~
Spiraling Leaf
single spiraling maple leaf above me
is caught by the naked finger twigs
of winter-stripped sibling trees
and it trembles in their cold embrace
my hands hover over the rushing stream
over water crashing along the stony cliffs
and I lean forward on the rocky bank
with only these mute branches to hold me
~~~
Bonsai
twisting clipping trimming
I am the bonsai
both gardener and tree
turning cutting winding
make something beautiful of me
~~~
Rain Storm
rain pours down on the black-water beach
and the raging storm claws up the waves
reaching to the foaming midnight sky
and her lightning bolts explode vertically
and deadly electric bundles race horizontally
where I sit alone on the black-water beach
and the making of debris in the night
become a shattering torrential reality
and rain pours down on the black-water me
~~~
Blackberry Brambles
Throughout childhood years we waited
for the blackberry we planted
to become fruit bearing brambles
like the rich tangle trailing
on the neighbor’s stone walls.
Who did not love the purple fruit
hanging from their aged woven mass of thorns
and who did not trespass to enjoy it?
Throughout childhood years we waited
for the seedling oak to grow and spread
to thicken sprawling branches
so we could sit beneath its splendor
like the one up on the hill.
Who did not love the gnarled trunk
who did not climb the branches
and hide in that deep cool shade?
Now our blackberry brambles are overgrown
now our oak tree aged
but now they are not ours
and none of us are there to eat the purple fruit
or sit in the cool green shade.
~~~
Urban Garden
scratching the packed earth
in the abandoned garden
I rake and dig and hope
urban creatures hear me
and they watch and wait
scoffing or aloof or shy
but then while I sleep
the scent of lavender roots
calls each of them to visit
and to imagine a garden
and in the early morning
songs emerge from memory
~~~
Evening Steps
summer comes softly to these quiet fields
where the aster-pink native blossoms show
ephemeral beauty by the silent gravel path
and they have no struggle to live in this poor earth
perfectly harmonized over a hundred seasons
and gray mourning doves sit beside these quiet fields
they coo and pace in the summer heat on dry grass
until they hear your heavy evening steps arrive
and wings whistle by in a cloud of feather flutes
~~~
To Light
hide from unkind night in quick breaths
while insects air their nerve fervor
on unkind yellow lights
and wonder who sits in shadows
and sleeps dark-cloaked or dreams
and has he come for them or for me
we all clamor to electric light like insects
in quaking fear of unkind night
~~~
Marsh Grasses
who will cry over me now
when you are gone
who will await my steps
who will listen for my breath at night
and to the pulse of my heart beating
only the seagulls hover over me now and call
the summer heat hears my steps
and the night listens to my breathing
only the air feels my heart beating against it
the wild marsh grasses run to me from me
and not you escaping the relentless wind
at harbors we no longer share
~~~
Dover Air Force Base
watch the army transporter plane at dusk by Dover
its gray-green tail is half-exposed by the base hanger
a mute reptile paused at dry intercourse
it is pregnant with un-thought and un-life
hear another prowl our marsh by day
it’s in a blind burning search
and screams a heart-piercing anguish
straight through our ears to our hearts
unconscious these seem in flight and pause
oblivious of each other and of us
suffocating with their cargo and intent
we are lost here in the din of our own vulgarity
~~~
Supernatural
Spirits Walk
spirits walk beside us unseen
they lay down beds of petals
where we would fall
and send soft breezes
to lift us up again
demons walk beside us unseen
they seek the soft moment of doubt
between the out-breath and the in-breath
here they probe our unexamined paths
escaping their loneliness
~~~
Grandmother's Prayer
granddaughter don’t leave
you see the spirits stay here
when you go
and mock my blindness
in the dark
they see with gray eyes
that need no light
and run on soft feet
that make so sound
on the dark oak floors
or if you go leave on the light
though I am blind
so you may see them
and they will fear your youth
granddaughter don’t leave
~~~
Peripheral Vision
soft shades of fear flutter
leave old songs spun of spider silk
a small dead birdling on gravel
a nestling rustling silenced
tight fog-choked air
down in the dark crevices lies
this birdling’s broken frame
and that spider’s web torn
frayed
labor and lost love
feather-perfect architecture
unraveling on the evening street
shades vanishing in the night fog
~~~
Winter Stalking
white snow marks off black tree trunks
walking stalking trees too move
sharp stiff trees stare back at me
taller damp and green blue moss hidden
they watch my gray eyes
with their hazel ones in silent decay
their wet dark moist mold infected
outer layers protect a living core
selfish earth you reach up mangling
forcing entwining your new chances
to grow into gorge out and push apart
to conquer not just wood but stone
I sit on a flat stone but am not safe
it waits under your powder-blue film
of moss lichens clinging prying
here in the winter wood
injured tree and rock and I wait
for inevitable creeping clawing and smell
that acid smell of earth it’s everywhere
come to take in all of us the fallen ones
~~~
Empty Casket
Where has the man gone?
His scent lingers in the room
but he has become pain invisible.
Stalk around the empty casket
of the black suit reeking of ash.
Nails search for wet jewels of eyes
in hollow circles of vacant sockets.
The waterfall of hair has run dry.
A cat grabbed the black jacket
piercing the dirty cloth with sharp teeth
she shakes it ferociously
thrashing without resistance.
Feeling stops in the heat of crime
but someone died here
and now the floor devoid of objects
is rolling up toward the white ceiling
as corners of the room change shape.
Where has the man gone?
His scent lingers in the room.
~~~
What the Wind Said
the wind carries the birds’ voices
here to this quiet room
where a lost seagull wakes me
saying ‘this is no longer the night’
hours later the rock doves we call pigeons
arrive and cluster at the stone window ledge
between these cramped old brick buildings
and their cooing echoes up the alley
saying ‘here is the family yes all here’
afternoon silence is broken by
the mournful call of a crow
alone in the top of the bare tree
outside the back window
saying ‘no this journey is not over’
and no I cannot rest
~~~
Library Lantern
light a candle in the lantern
this quiet evening to read by
and close the patterned metal door
to watch the shadows cling to the wall
as people have done evenings
for ages and ages past
lean against the bookcase
and imagine each book is a person
lined up side by side
and take one from the shelf
to leaf through captured thoughts
of lives that refused to end
light a candle in the lantern
this quite evening to read by
~~~
Afterthought of the Gods
gods heroes and prophets surely did arrive
and my ancestors did worship and build
I watch the ancient facades crumble
and fold into natures embrace
of great-great grandmother’s generation
I arrive like an afterthought of the gods
and build without worship
hoping someone will tell me the story
one was foretold and came and walked
blessed the weak the infirm the small
~~~
Love
Visitor and the Teacup
although you must leave
stay with me a moment
in this rose garden
so the fragrance of your skin
may linger in my hair
as I slowly wash our teacups
~~~
Childbirth
I am the oyster and she
my daughter is the pearl
coated with love’s opal care
she slips from my embrace
where a crushed shell and broken
I watch her roll away
~~~
Jasmine Buds Opening
tell me but silently no not with words
if I were to hold you gently delicately and wait
as patiently as a cool persistent green wave
licks the warm dry sand
to envelop and transform it
tell me this soundless night
would you tremble in my arms
and show me no, not even pressing into me
just so feather-light
as slowly as the white jasmine petals
of a hundred buds on our towering vine
climbing over the still gray wall
where they spread over time to open
self-determined and unhurried
the flowers reveal at once their symmetry
and intoxicating breath to the dark night
if I were to hold you just so and wait
tell me lovely one but no, not with words
if I were to hold you gently, delicately and wait
could we be safe enough
would you wait with me
wake with me
tremble for me
~~~
Love Like You Will Live Forever
love like you will live forever
love like you will die
a soft quiet peace is coming
but I will not rage
against it growing ever brighter
remember my hair was just this color
of my little brown dog’s smooth coat
when I was a baby in mother’s photos
and the lock of hair she saved
and just this color of mango sorbet
melting in my bowl here now
I want to capture this moment
to find a pen and write it down
but the sorbet is melting in my bowl
and the thought drifts away like music
and my little dog looks up
soft beautiful and light
her eyes full of now and love
and it makes our children angry
as they see us entering darkness
when we see us entering ever brighter light
oh love like you will live forever
but love like you will die
~~~
Outside the Store
look at him tonight outside the store
he is thin and shadowed
with obsidian glass-black eyes
crystalized by the fire of this homeless life
hear his softly spoken words
‘change, change for food?’
feel his limp hands lift up
in effort that cannot be described as hope
nor action that gathers in some gain
and be with him in senses you have not closed
to life in the death-rift night air
~~~
Brothers in Boston
four French girls with long black hair
loll about lost on Newbury Street
singing ‘where is this where is that’
a man in a blue oxford shirt
whips out his phone tapping quickly
the girls lean close and closer
their curls drifting around his shoulders
a circle of long bare legs around him
laughter and ‘thank you
’ and ‘merci’
what a lucky man
his brother is leaner with long black nails
at Back Bay Station waiting for the train
singing ‘miss miss can you spare some change’
‘hey hey hey what are you doing here
get out of here’ the ticket man yells
‘if you say so’ he responds and drifts away
to a street vendor line gathering his change
he leans forward as people lean away
even the four French girls with long black hair
what an unlucky man
~~~
Illusion Heartbreak
physics sings that reality must be the same now as then
but living in illusions each one different from another
living and swimming and holding tight to illusions
reflecting shadows in multimedia imagination
while reality shrinks and recedes then disappears
illusion meets reality with heartbreak or schizophrenia
a fractured mirror that was the self leaves an emptiness
illusion is the heartbreak grasping is the cutting pain
yes walk away from the sharp hungry darkness
and wake up to leave the dream for sleeping
because reality must be the same now as then
~~~
Mirror
I think no I imagine
I hear you call my name
and I stop and listen
to running water
to laughter to murmurs
lift my eyes to the mirror
breathe slowly
listen silently
no door to run to
no hand to touch
I think no I imagine
the promises and the failures
~~~
Motionless Waking
motionless soft breaths
in the moments before waking
and not a hint of a breeze
not a scent not a murmur
still adrift in light gray sleep
until the sound of a hand on the door
and the glow of bright gold light
the pulse and fury of my waking heart
struggling to open the reluctant eyes
but I can not move at all
enveloped in gold light melting into white
through closed eyelids falling
as a feather-mist from inside
into light weightless light
a glowing golden mantle settles
back around each breath
where it appears and vanishes
every moment life remembers me
as if someone is at the door
~~~
Not Forever
please remember me because
it can be said that I loved but not that I love
and so my darling it was not meant to be forever
not even once, not ever, not forever
this shell called me is gone
that once defined within as self
and without as the other
and nothing is in there any longer to love you back
remember me because that which loved is in the past
where this shell of me was inhabited by someone
who passed through translucent to the world
and I was dissolved and in dissolution lost
but please remember me because
I have not forgotten that I loved
~~~
*****
About the Author