Thursday, May 24, 2007

As
the boy in the attic
tunes his guitar to another aspect of his soul
it fills the space, vitality trembles, trebles

the girl in the kitchen
fits the end of a bagel between her teeth
And wishes that she wasn't so cold
or May wasn't so extensive
or purity of heart so elusive

the recluse is gone, in her place
the ghost of what was sorrowful,
grateful,
now complacent.

chamomile tea, solution
in which dissolve
thought
action
conscience
love

Jesus is an intellectual concession
Sin is an unfortunate obstacle
innocence is ambitious, an assumption foregone
love is the momentary dictation

speak o heart

lying under your heavy blanket
cry infant submission
cry bloody conception, the water
and the blood

hyssop
and i shall be clean

2 comments:

Sarah said...

Holly!

I love that you posted! And, as always, the words you use fit together like puzzle pieces to create a glimpse of life for you and really for everyone who reads it, since I don't think you have to really know what YOU are talking about to understand. I believe that's one indication of great art - not that it necessarily conveys the composer's exact purpose but that it does indeed convey purpose to everyone exposed to it.
I dreamt about you and Nate last night - we went on our camping trip this weekend and all of a sudden you guys showed up to stay too! We were pretty excited, but then I woke up and it was just a dream. Hope you have a good weekend.

HSD said...

Hi Sarah!

Thanks for stopping by...always glad to hear from family. I don't know about its being great art--I was just trying to put emotion into words, which always comes out abstract.

I wish we could have showed up unexpectedly--it sounds as though you enjoyed your trip--and the place looks idyllic, to say the least. perhaps next year we can join you, if you decide to repeat the experience?