nocturnes
DESCRIPTION
Josephine Sacabo and Dalt WonkTRANSCRIPT
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Josephine Sacabo and Dalt Wonk
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For Paul Pines and Jon Newlin
with gratitude for their friendship.
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Images and Poems by
Josephine Sacabo and Dalt Wonk
Published by Luna Press
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Unearthed, like an idol — her features
dulled by the pious touch
of generations, rubbing out their fear,
the moon bewilders night
with her solitude. She is earth’s dead child —
doomed to perpetual return,
like the oceans, who grieve
on her white marble steps, and women,
her sisters, their bodies tuned to her.
What draws you to us, angel
of evil tidings, bearing the scent
of the eternal, whom you flee,
like a migratory bird
fleeing the death of summer.
THE MOON
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Unearthed, like an idol — her features
dulled by the pious touch
of generations, rubbing out their fear,
the moon bewilders night
with her solitude. She is earth’s dead child —
doomed to perpetual return,
like the oceans, who grieve
on her white marble steps, and women,
her sisters, their bodies tuned to her.
What draws you to us, angel
of evil tidings, bearing the scent
of the eternal, whom you flee,
like a migratory bird
fleeing the death of summer.
THE MOON
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Unearthed, like an idol — her features
dulled by the pious touch
of generations, rubbing out their fear,
the moon bewilders night
with her solitude. She is earth’s dead child —
doomed to perpetual return,
like the oceans, who grieve
on her white marble steps, and women,
her sisters, their bodies tuned to her.
What draws you to us, angel
of evil tidings, bearing the scent
of the eternal, whom you flee,
like a migratory bird
fleeing the death of summer.
THE MOON
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TWIL IGHT Softly, our renegade fragments
fit back in the broken puzzle.
Sight curls up, its claws withdrawn.
And separateness grows blurred,
like a sunken hull, absolved
at last from destinations —
those bright toys, dangling forever
out of reach, to waken
the joyful avarice of a baby’s smile.
And the infinite — revealed slowly
like the landscape on a fan —
promises the refuge
of some greater question, its summit
glimmering intermittently with hope.
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TWILIGHTSoftly, our renegade fragments
fit back in the broken puzzle.
Sight curls up, its claws withdrawn.
And separateness grows blurred,
like a sunken hull, absolved
at last from destinations —
those bright toys, dangling forever
out of reach, to waken
the joyful avarice of a baby’s smile.
And the infinite — revealed slowly
like the landscape on a fan —
promises the refuge
of some greater question, its summit
glimmering intermittently with hope.
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TWILIGHTSoftly, our renegade fragments
fit back in the broken puzzle.
Sight curls up, its claws withdrawn.
And separateness grows blurred,
like a sunken hull, absolved
at last from destinations —
those bright toys, dangling forever
out of reach, to waken
the joyful avarice of a baby’s smile.
And the infinite — revealed slowly
like the landscape on a fan —
promises the refuge
of some greater question, its summit
glimmering intermittently with hope.
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SLEEP The fear that hides in the corners
of the day, the winged night seizes in its claws.
Helpless victim, he shall be torn
to pieces — in a world that can be seen,
but can’t be touched. On a river
that threads its ribbons through us,
connecting the severed regions of time,
the eye drifts like a luminescent fish.
Inner darkness, attractive sister of death,
pleasurably, against your will, your secrets uncoil.
Oblivion, your master, pins you down.
Softly from your fingers fall
a torrent of heretical jewels,
imperishable as a child’s anger.
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SLEEPThe fear that hides in the corners
of the day, the winged night seizes in its claws.
Helpless victim, he shall be torn
to pieces — in a world that can be seen,
but can’t be touched. On a river
that threads its ribbons through us,
connecting the severed regions of time,
the eye drifts like a luminescent fish.
Inner darkness, attractive sister of death,
pleasurably, against your will, your secrets uncoil.
Oblivion, your master, pins you down.
Softly from your fingers fall
a torrent of heretical jewels,
imperishable as a child’s anger.
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SLEEPThe fear that hides in the corners
of the day, the winged night seizes in its claws.
Helpless victim, he shall be torn
to pieces — in a world that can be seen,
but can’t be touched. On a river
that threads its ribbons through us,
connecting the severed regions of time,
the eye drifts like a luminescent fish.
Inner darkness, attractive sister of death,
pleasurably, against your will, your secrets uncoil.
Oblivion, your master, pins you down.
Softly from your fingers fall
a torrent of heretical jewels,
imperishable as a child’s anger.
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20
Time pauses before the web
your seanced fingers spin,
glistening and so delicately attached
to anything solid, it consoles like perfume
or a half-remembered kiss or smoke,
when its white silk pools in the hearth,
unwilling to renounce the tainted pleasure
of a sacrifice whose child is radiance.
Never has the geometry
of opposites slipped so pensively
from now to now. This grieved mirage
you coax from twilight
descends like the hesitant pilgrimage
downward of a leaf.
FOR CHOP IN
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Time pauses before the web
your seanced fingers spin,
glistening and so delicately attached
to anything solid, it consoles like perfume
or a half-remembered kiss or smoke,
when its white silk pools in the hearth,
unwilling to renounce the tainted pleasure
of a sacrifice whose child is radiance.
Never has the geometry
of opposites slipped so pensively
from now to now. This grieved mirage
you coax from twilight
descends like the hesitant pilgrimage
downward of a leaf.
FOR CHOPIN
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Time pauses before the web
your seanced fingers spin,
glistening and so delicately attached
to anything solid, it consoles like perfume
or a half-remembered kiss or smoke,
when its white silk pools in the hearth,
unwilling to renounce the tainted pleasure
of a sacrifice whose child is radiance.
Never has the geometry
of opposites slipped so pensively
from now to now. This grieved mirage
you coax from twilight
descends like the hesitant pilgrimage
downward of a leaf.
FOR CHOPIN
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The danger you struggle to dispel
holds against the gales of waking
like a root that twists its mouth
down through the sadness
of all that’s ever been and passed away.
Only an orphaned touch can comfort
your cry, thrashing in terror against the walls
of a darkness no one else can enter.
Your words reach out, blindly, stumbling,
trying to join hands. Is it regret,
whose petals I watch now
float across your gaze?
— or rebellion, breathing faintly
on the embers of a dying star?
A DREAMER
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The danger you struggle to dispel
holds against the gales of waking
like a root that twists its mouth
down through the sadness
of all that’s ever been and passed away.
Only an orphaned touch can comfort
your cry, thrashing in terror against the walls
of a darkness no one else can enter.
Your words reach out, blindly, stumbling,
trying to join hands. Is it regret,
whose petals I watch now
float across your gaze?
— or rebellion, breathing faintly
on the embers of a dying star?
A DREAMER
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The danger you struggle to dispel
holds against the gales of waking
like a root that twists its mouth
down through the sadness
of all that’s ever been and passed away.
Only an orphaned touch can comfort
your cry, thrashing in terror against the walls
of a darkness no one else can enter.
Your words reach out, blindly, stumbling,
trying to join hands. Is it regret,
whose petals I watch now
float across your gaze?
— or rebellion, breathing faintly
on the embers of a dying star?
A DREAMER
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Seeds of light spilled from the clouds,
your limbo soothes —
like a round stone
that says its prayer to our fingers.
Memories whisper, somewhere,
among the melted shadows; and night’s scent
usurps volition like a stain in cloth.
Nothing matters. At last.
The soul, spidering up the thread
of its indifference, pauses, startled
by the plunge inward, towards emptiness,
where what seemed real
dissolves, and time, the nomad,
forgets his ancient paths through silence.
SUMMER RA IN
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Seeds of light spilled from the clouds,
your limbo soothes —
like a round stone
that says its prayer to our fingers.
Memories whisper, somewhere,
among the melted shadows; and night’s scent
usurps volition like a stain in cloth.
Nothing matters. At last.
The soul, spidering up the thread
of its indifference, pauses, startled
by the plunge inward, towards emptiness,
where what seemed real
dissolves, and time, the nomad,
forgets his ancient paths through silence.
SUMMER RAIN
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Seeds of light spilled from the clouds,
your limbo soothes —
like a round stone
that says its prayer to our fingers.
Memories whisper, somewhere,
among the melted shadows; and night’s scent
usurps volition like a stain in cloth.
Nothing matters. At last.
The soul, spidering up the thread
of its indifference, pauses, startled
by the plunge inward, towards emptiness,
where what seemed real
dissolves, and time, the nomad,
forgets his ancient paths through silence.
SUMMER RAIN
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A circle opens its liquid mouth
beneath a fish who leaps to safety,
elsewhere in the silver pond of sleep.
Nearby, a taloned voice, cries out a warning.
What danger do you announce,
frail priestess, plunging through nights foliage
in flight from the transparency of God.
And I, why have I come again, to wander
through this premonition, leaving
my footprints scrawled in the sand
like a prayer for forgiveness, said over and over.
Until dawn spreads her wings,
disdainfully, above the wounded horizon —
where shadows, returning from exile, cringe in fear.
DREAMSCAPE
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A circle opens its liquid mouth
beneath a fish who leaps to safety,
elsewhere in the silver pond of sleep.
Nearby, a taloned voice, cries out a warning.
What danger do you announce,
frail priestess, plunging through nights foliage
in flight from the transparency of God.
And I, why have I come again, to wander
through this premonition, leaving
my footprints scrawled in the sand
like a prayer for forgiveness, said over and over.
Until dawn spreads her wings,
disdainfully, above the wounded horizon —
where shadows, returning from exile, cringe in fear.
DREAMSCAPE
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A circle opens its liquid mouth
beneath a fish who leaps to safety,
elsewhere in the silver pond of sleep.
Nearby, a taloned voice, cries out a warning.
What danger do you announce,
frail priestess, plunging through nights foliage
in flight from the transparency of God.
And I, why have I come again, to wander
through this premonition, leaving
my footprints scrawled in the sand
like a prayer for forgiveness, said over and over.
Until dawn spreads her wings,
disdainfully, above the wounded horizon —
where shadows, returning from exile, cringe in fear.
DREAMSCAPE
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39
Poisoned at dawn by the slow blue light,
like some minute form of life
on the surface of a pond, the stars
sink into the depths.
At dusk, they return —
like the return of a forgotten sadness.
What sun in us went down and left us open
to lost time — glistening
in its net of constellations,
when day’s flow cools to ash,
and distances, too vast to comprehend,
draw slowly closer, like a procession
of black-shawled women, singing
their ancient, soothing canticles to death.
THE STARS
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Poisoned at dawn by the slow blue light,
like some minute form of life
on the surface of a pond, the stars
sink into the depths.
At dusk, they return —
like the return of a forgotten sadness.
What sun in us went down and left us open
to lost time — glistening
in its net of constellations,
when day’s flow cools to ash,
and distances, too vast to comprehend,
draw slowly closer, like a procession
of black-shawled women, singing
their ancient, soothing canticles to death.
THE STARS
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39
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Poisoned at dawn by the slow blue light,
like some minute form of life
on the surface of a pond, the stars
sink into the depths.
At dusk, they return —
like the return of a forgotten sadness.
What sun in us went down and left us open
to lost time — glistening
in its net of constellations,
when day’s flow cools to ash,
and distances, too vast to comprehend,
draw slowly closer, like a procession
of black-shawled women, singing
their ancient, soothing canticles to death.
THE STARS
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39
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43
With each touch, our origin
binds us ever more tightly. Like moths,
we enter radiance — drunk
with the pleasure of spiraling
towards extinction. And Infancy,
not yet severed from the zodiac,
wells up in us, engulfing
our disheartened spirits in a surge
of affirmation. Closer. Come, closer.
Gather this dream’s roots carefully,
into the darkness,
where it can strengthen — uplifted
by the secret need of all that is
to flower. To flower. Again, to flower.
PHYS ICAL LOVE
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With each touch, our origin
binds us ever more tightly. Like moths,
we enter radiance — drunk
with the pleasure of spiraling
towards extinction. And Infancy,
not yet severed from the zodiac,
wells up in us, engulfing
our disheartened spirits in a surge
of affirmation. Closer. Come, closer.
Gather this dream’s roots carefully,
into the darkness,
where it can strengthen — uplifted
by the secret need of all that is
to flower. To flower. Again, to flower.
PHYSICAL LOVE
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With each touch, our origin
binds us ever more tightly. Like moths,
we enter radiance — drunk
with the pleasure of spiraling
towards extinction. And Infancy,
not yet severed from the zodiac,
wells up in us, engulfing
our disheartened spirits in a surge
of affirmation. Closer. Come, closer.
Gather this dream’s roots carefully,
into the darkness,
where it can strengthen — uplifted
by the secret need of all that is
to flower. To flower. Again, to flower.
PHYSICAL LOVE
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I. THE MOON
1. Moon Over Time
2. Marble Steps
3. Angel of Evil Tidings
4. Fleeing
II. TWILIGHT
5. Twilight
6. Renegade Fragments 1
7. Renegade Fragments 2
8. The Ship
9. Summit
III. SLEEP
10. The Dreamer (Man)
11. Obscene Bird of Night 1
12. Obscene Bird of Night 2
13. Obscene Bird of Night 3
14. Severed Regions of Time
15. The Elusive Eye 1
16. The Elusive Eye 2
17. The Elusive Eye 3
18. Inner Darkness
19. The Dreamer (Woman)
IV. FOR CHOPIN
20. Radiance 1
21. Radiance 2
22. Radiance 3
INDEX V. A DREAMER
23. Gales
24. The Dream
25. Orphaned Touch
26. Petals
VI. SUMMER RAIN
27. Clouds
28. Seeds Of Light
29. Summer Rain
30. Tree Dissolving
31. The Egret
32. Time
VII. DREAMSCAPE
33. Transparent God
34. The Wanderer
35. Exiled Shadows
36. Whispered Prayers 1
37. Whispered Prayers 2
38. Luna Antigua
VIII. THE STARS
39. The Pond
40. The Stars
41. Forgotten Sadness
42. Constellation
IX. PHYSICAL LOVE
43. Spiraling
44. Flowers
ISBN: 978-0-615-58708-0
Book Design: Madelyn Owens
Art Direction: Jacqueline Miro
Printer: Oddi Printing Corporation 842 Carroll Street Brooklyn, New York,11215
Published By Luna Press, 2012
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ISBN: 978-0-615-58708-0