Stone Circus 68

 

 

 

 

how many years later

i Still get Chills!

it's Yesterday!

All that Wild Energy

               Screaming Strutting Gyrating

                             
Pain & Plenitude

the Untamed roilings of Youth’s Eternal Call

to the Future to the Past

Why this moment? Why Now?

So Many

the Tortured Ecstatic Spirits

So Many

Looking Back all these years & years after

I see how much has Changed

how much Still the Very Same

We Knew the Stoned

the Stones

were Prophets

dancing and writhing pain or pleasure

Hard to tell

Sending that Manic Energy Forward to the Ages

of slow witted plodders Engulfed in silken chains

seeming Happy to Be So

Manic and twitching

witching Bewitching

electricity ZZZappping

 

we Always knew the Stones were Prophets

the mossed markers of Passage the mounds of Bone

Who will tell the stories

when the Wild Angels have all Gone

when the legends are Erased

from Stones 

buried in green velvet and fronds of newer days

in leaves brown wet & rotting

mulch for What’s Coming Next

 

© 2021 pamela twining

No Ninas

 

 

I was never drawn by Hirschfeld

no Ninas in the webbing of my clothes

or tangled in my hair

no lithe lines simply drawn

as ever a flash

a glance

a twist of wrist

and I

Aye

Eye appear

the Sputter & Spatter of live ink

spitting from his pen

 

I will never see his blocky name

and its following number

(I imagine him chuckling like a child

as he hid the Ninas in amongst)

and perhaps no one the wiser

except

this Tease acknowledgement

that maybe you didn’t even Care

about the Subject

of that superb moment of The Art

but only how many goddamn Ninas

 

like a game

a total negation

of My Importance to the Universe 

 

but I was Never drawn by Hirschfeld

not having attained Fame

of any kind

no matter How much my family

and my lover say they adore me

and anyway he’s dead

so even if I Did get famous now

he couldn’t draw me

 

all my hidden Ninas

Forever unresolved  

 

 

© 2021 pamela twining

 

 

 

Letter to a Suicide

 

 

 

my Beautiful little sister
materializes in the heavens
floating down to my part of the world
from so far away
my Lovely Celestial Dancer
whose Spirit fills my Heart
with Gladness
whose Crazy Humor bedezins bedecks
my Universe with WildWomyn
Laughter Song & Stories
whose Open Heart whose Secret Heart
tiptoes tentatively Bursts Blazingly
Always brings Love into the World
whose Birth was a Gift

Stay 　
Dammit!

 

the cave

                                              

                                                                                                                                                  for RK

return to light

eyes blinded after darkness

            impenetrable

it’s just too much all at once

greedy pupils expand/contract

will the images fade like photographs

            overexposed?

 

return to light

return to water after starvation/

thirst

troglodyte climbing

climbing from the bowels of the earth

the eyes have not gone useless

yet

 

electric blue gaze of heaven

            paralyzing

teach me again

to behold the universe

 

 1988

 

Alien Lullaby

 

 

 

 

there is violence in the solitary crib

a dark ache of anomie

dissociation

bleeding is feeling

               pain equals pleasure

the tyranny of words that shape the consciousness

from the first moment of its winking on

               sliding in

                              opening up

round syllables resonating

bounding reverberating

roaring

inside the unformed mind

 

with what music, what songs do we fill

the alien unfoldings of a million billion infant futures

as they lie helpless in our arms

drinking in our emotions and prejudices

with the reverb of milk

their fernlike cheeks unfurling

against our breathing humming vibrating breasts

 

just noise to the unschooled ear

the definitions coming later

the syllables take on meaning

and the tones we’ve come to know as the rhythms of days

our actions based in primal memory

grow from feelings of love or abandonment

               anger, meanness

                              comfort or blessing

associated with those ethereal sounds

a heritage of the pre-lingual

the music of our words

in the land of First Contact