time comes undone

Nina Simone — Wild is the Wind (1966)

nariposa — Thu, 17 Dec 2020 11:01:13 +0000

Great mix of bluesy barn burners, muted loungey numbers, and songs with a full jazz backing band. I think Nina is at her best when she’s showing off the full range of her voice and her emotions. Both are never more true than on the devastating track “Four Women,” a song about the horrors of the slave trade and generational trauma. On a “Wild is the Wind” and others, she demonstrates a more vulnerable, delicate register. There’s something about Nina and her voice that’s crushingly beautiful in a way her more glossy contemporaries can’t match. Happy to add this to my desert island discs list.

Alela Diane – To Be Still (2009) [Rough Trade]

nariposa — Thu, 17 Dec 2020 10:57:01 +0000

Heard this artist first at a tiny show at sxsw. Made a point of picking up this album on my next record store trip. She’s from Portland and she sings Appalachian folk over finger picked guitars, banjo, and fiddle graced by occasional pedal steel. Has the same preciousness of a Joanna Newsom album, with dreamy Polaroids and brocade on the packaging. Infused with themes of nature and love, the album works well as a sunshiny counterpart to some musically similar but lyrically darker material from Marissa Nadler. As Diamonds is a standout track. She has other more current albums I’ve yet to explore but definitely will get to.

Terry Riley — In C (1968)

nariposa — Thu, 17 Dec 2020 10:48:35 +0000

Terry Riley – In C (1968)

A highlight take on this famous minimalist piece of music. This one has a strange arrangement, with a clamour to it that I initially mistook for eastern gamelan music. But the actual instruments used are western — Oboe, clarinet, flute, viola, trombone, and vibraphone. Clocking in around 41 minutes, listening to this is like listening to a locked groove—an infinite drone that veers around harmonically while circling the same home key. If you tune in closely enough, it seems to shift like a kaleidoscope. I remember buying this in Seattle at that famous record shop on the corner in capital hill. Really glad this turned out to be a hit instead of a miss as far as recordings of In C goes.

Poem: The Ocean

nariposa — Sun, 31 May 2020 06:32:43 +0000

The Ocean

Feet slipping through silt
Heart skipping a beat
Pumping ice to my extremities
A chill to freeze my unease

Shells crack like pottery
As watery eyes look back
Back at this place by the shore
The past a spectre of noir

It’s a gray day over the ocean
Low clouds hang over knit brows
Rotten driftwood strewn like cards
My scattered thoughts turn to life’s discard

Shattered sea glass pierces my feet
Bleeding out poisoned vitality
Wounds that never fade
Till waves becomes graves

Poem: You Ain’t Black

nariposa — Fri, 29 May 2020 14:58:24 +0000

You’re not my usual stereotype
You’re not a scapegoat, you’re practically white
You ain’t black

Your ancestors weren’t slaves
Your forebears didn’t pick cotton and maize
You ain’t black

Your hair isn’t wiry and dry
I don’t try to touch it, undermining your pride
You ain’t black

Your country club attire doesn’t fit
You failed social climbing large writ
You ain’t black

You can’t shuck and jive like on TV
You’re not a baller, a rapper, so what can you be?
You ain’t black

I don’t have your vote for granted
You’re not a good negro–in protest, you chanted
You ain’t black

Your blood doesn’t stain the streets
Your fear isn’t real, you can breathe
You ain’t black

You’re a looter, a thug, a threat too tall
That you’re even subjected to the question at all
You ain’t black

With a smile I’ll sell your Self short
I’ll make you a nameless minority, with a retort
You ain’t black

Poem: A Dying Fire

nariposa — Mon, 18 May 2020 14:34:11 +0000

A lick of flame
Kisses the black night
Unfurling against the gloom
Cackling from its crackling source
A diminutive pile of once logs
Their ruddy bark skin
Chapped by coal hot fire
Sparks escape like sprites
While crusted embers fall
Their musky light
Growing ever dimmer
As wood cleaves to ash
Things fall apart, I’m told

Prompt by Amanda L. Hawkins, author of “Truth Be Told: Poetry Prompts”

Poem: Gratitude

nariposa — Sat, 16 May 2020 00:12:46 +0000

I am a person
As tall as a totem
A person made tall
By the people who broke my fall

I stand on the shoulders of giants
Gentle friends, humble aunts
People who saw my potential to rise
People who gave freely their lessons on life

I am a perpetual student
Absorbing example, advice, admonishment
Emulating my idols
Their names: teachers, lovers, and chums

Extraordinary ordinary people
Who lent themselves to my growth
Mentors without titles
Caregivers without credentials

People who weren’t scared away
By my bandages, my disarray
People who made a point to take time
People who wanted to see me come into mine

I stand tall
By the kindness of all
Those strangers, those friends, those kin
My gratitude the same, my heart thankful as this I pen

Poem: We’re Not Dead Yet

nariposa — Wed, 13 May 2020 22:20:49 +0000

We’re not dead yet
At the goddess’ behest
So let’s live our life best

Let’s run with the bulls
Jump naked into pools
We’re not dead yet

Our currency is time
Each breath another dime
Let’s live our life, that mess

Let’s wear golden frocks
And show off plaid socks
Because we’re not dead yet

Let’s paint the rainbow
And through our art glow
It’s our life, live it best

Let’s be kind to strangers
And say thanks for surviving dangers
We’re not dead yet
Let’s revel in life; it’s the best

Poem: Grandma

nariposa — Wed, 13 May 2020 20:55:06 +0000

gnarled and black
her fingers slack
80 years of woe
etched across her face

brows like a doleful prayer
eyes like resignation letters
vacant eyes, not all there
with furrowed sorrow below her hair

she survived a fire
her scarred, blotchy skin
defying that element
of man’s sin

what other fires did her life know
a black matriarch living in jim crow
sharecropping cotton and wheat
so her large family could eat

my grandma lived life
loud and proud
those fingers would wag
as she scolded me aloud

she raised generations
from babe to grown
her field-worn hands
bathing us while she moaned

I can still hear that humming
as she rocked in her chair
an occasional bible verse
lectured with airs

my grandma rests
in a cemetery under golden light
no longer troubled
by the labors of rural life

she rests too
in the hearts of her family
her legacy of wisdom
a guiding homily

Poem: That Moment

nariposa — Sat, 02 May 2020 14:55:57 +0000

that moment before creation that space holds inspiration anticipation of feeling flow enumeration of your thoughts along rows pre-poetry is bait on a hook an idea you reel in a babbling thought brook articulation of your roving mind’s eye a preoccupation a stuck spot, an inflamed sty the satisfaction of bringing new creation to fruition … Continue reading →

Poem: Summer of Love

nariposa — Wed, 29 Apr 2020 20:10:55 +0000

Not a room
So much as a closet
A place where I deposit
My meager remuneration
That summer I had no occupation

Young, poor, and in love
With a boy named Michael, above
My desk in my lofted bed
We made love and his hair
Jet black did shed

A summer of love and youth
In Berkeley of all places
At a coop
A cheap bed to rest my head
On the street of headshops and dreads

Telegraph Avenue, my hood
A street that everyone should
Know from their travels
And travails; a place
Where peace & love prevailed

I fell in love with music too
Akron/Family, Landing, Archer Prewitt
Bands so freaky and strange
Much like my friend Matt
A Berkeley student and sage

He taught me with smiles and specs
To not lose your glasses
While stealing bread
A dumpster diving freegan extraordinaire
With the long tightly loc’d hippie hair

My room was the scene of my growth
Reading and listening and
Awoke by the strains of
the joy of the city
My summer of love and alacrity

This poem was inspired by the prompt at http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-eight-6/

Poem: Good Job

nariposa — Wed, 29 Apr 2020 19:23:15 +0000

from farm to table
takes on new resonance
in these times of pestilence
when we’re all in our residences

when those laborers, those indentured serfs,
who serve us our food
are no longer invisible
who show up to work physical

these workers deserve rights,
safety, a living wage,
healthcare, childcare, sick leave
and an honorable gaze

and those nurses, those healers,
those layers of hands
when palliative care
means knowing someone is there

I see you, I know you
among family and friends
you deserve to be recognized
you deserve to make ends

in the time of covid19
we’ll be judged by our deeds
how we treat the front liners
who work to mouths feed

This poem was inspired by the Alicia Keys tribute to our front line workers, “Good Job”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N63tvQBwSSw

Poem: For Charles

nariposa — Mon, 27 Apr 2020 14:59:43 +0000

my gentle friend
with the baby blues
I fell apart
when I heard the news

you’ve left us here
for a better place
where your giggles and laughter
will warm His grace

my sweet friend
with the easy smile
couldn’t hurt a fly
avoided conflict by a mile

i’ll join you someday
we’ll level up singing
in the heavenly choir
you’re surely bringing

my beautiful friend
putting others’ needs first
a responsible son
a friend through the worst

why you were taken
leaves me angry and sad
I hope my love circles you
in your new pearly pad

my missing friend
you left me raw and shaking
you will always command
my deepest heart aching

Poem: Mother

nariposa — Tue, 21 Apr 2020 01:01:06 +0000

As gentle as her name
My mother calms and tames
The outbursts of my pain
On days when everything rains

Young, black and gifted she was
A bookworm and then a judge
A beautiful creature and soul
With wisdom now that she’s older

She always knows what to say
A wordstress who hems and weighs
Her thoughts into careful speeches
I’ve absorbed since I was in breeches

Her values are kindness and love
Hard work, compassion, and struggle
She broke glass ceilings and racial ground
Never complaining about injustices abound

My mother is patient with politeness
Her common sense tempers my wildness
She always lends an ear to her family
And gives of her time most readily

Like many accomplished professionals
She’s also a domestic goddess of the home
Solving problems with research and guile
Acting as house CEO all the while

My mother carries her burdens with grace
She has style, she has pluck, she has taste
Her resilience is a testament to her character
A matriarch of two, her guidance draws us together

My mother makes time for everyone
She adjudicates life’s twists without qualms
She gave me life, love, and curiosity
In adulthood she heals with her generosity

Poem: The Beautiful People

nariposa — Fri, 17 Apr 2020 23:57:51 +0000

Prompt from Truth Be Told by Amanda L Hawkins: “What do you find most beautiful about people?”

The thumbprint preens
as the arbiter of identity
its uniqueness absolute

My friends show their
thumbprint in myriad
ways

A glance,
A giggle,
A gesture,
Where they tickle

My friends shine their
identity as brilliant as
a blaze

Dazzling in their style
and I don’t mean threads
Their humor, their wit,
the language of their hands
Their obsessions, their linguistics,
the ideas for which they stand

My friends radiate beauty
in their character, in their
craze

They’re artists,
They’re activists,
They’re attorneys,
with cred

They’re comics,
They’re creators,
They’re counselors
of zen

I love my friends
and their unique presentation
Their collective bouquet
rests in my heart’s culmination

Poem: To be or to Villanelle

nariposa — Thu, 16 Apr 2020 02:34:44 +0000

I write villanelles
In my hour of need
It’s better than hell

I won’t put to quill
Some maudlin screed
I write villanelles

I feel overwhelmed
By life’s cruel ironies
It’s better than hell

I wish to be felled
Drowning in my feelings
I write villanelles

I cry and I wail
Suffering acutely
It’s better than hell

Death wraps on my sill
But today won’t take me
So I write villanelles
Cause it’s better than hell

Poem: Social Distance

nariposa — Tue, 14 Apr 2020 03:52:42 +0000

out my window I stared
a hood emptied by ordinance
to preserve the humans there
the scene vacant and indifferent

I stared at crepe myrtles
the hurdles of life shortly paused
except for heroes and nurses
their duty healing and gauze

I stared as the breeze blows
through the pink flecked fronds
bellowing gusto for life
wildlife chirping their songs

and the fire ants gather
along bark avenues
a whole microcosm continues
as relentless as the news

from my window I sit and wait
for reports of abatement
as the squirrels stow cashews
and the world fears incubatement

Poem: Joanna Newsom

nariposa — Mon, 13 Apr 2020 02:36:08 +0000

rocking quiet and cocooned
in my music library room
pouring over precious verses
of a bard-like fairy person

this enchantress weaves her tales
on a loom of harp and wails
threading melody through needle
cooing spells she coaxes and wheedles

hear her voice as it warbles
an angel true the genuine article
a wordsmith laid with ancient lexicon
a beauty plaited with golden hair spun

the fine brocade of her songs
settles gossamer upon my mind long
cupping my heart in porcelain hands
warming my blood with tales of far lands

joanna newsom a lark and a muse
in depictions of nature tells the good news
of meteors and starlight strewn across heaven
in music so pure as to haunt and to quicken

Poem: Time

nariposa — Mon, 13 Apr 2020 00:16:21 +0000

time is a potato
that grows outward
an irregular sphere
that mottles and sprouts

the past and the future
are both just new shoots
stemming from the present
like seeming voodoo

“now” is a configuration
of tangled temporal roots
full of possibilities
both pristine and pollute

time’s permutations
angle backwards and forwards
a multiverse shifting
round’ unsuspecting boarders

we passengers trace
our own corkscrew trail
in multidimensional space
patterning infinite shells

Poem: Spring

nariposa — Sun, 12 Apr 2020 23:57:04 +0000

The first thaw heralds in the start of spring

Seeds bursting, everything is flowering

Buds can be spied on sinewy branches

Cattle are out to pasture on ranches

Spring rain comes in gentle and refreshing

New primrose signifies new beginnings

The arrival of Spring is a fresh start

And all God’s creatures rejoin in that part

The poet stands awed at nature’s splendor

When everything is new, fresh, and tender

The bluebonnet bloom is lush and verdant

The pecan tree bounty is emergent

All of the plants are blooming and fruiting

Human gatherers are plucking and looting

Spring’s bountiful bloom has no end in sight

Nature’s renewal is a thing of beauty outright

Poem: Akron/Family Values

nariposa — Sat, 11 Apr 2020 00:55:21 +0000

Poem: Akron/Family Values

well I have to say something
if I want to sing
to those bearded weirdos in
the akron/family

lifting voices and spirits
in musical free verse
improvisation and jamming
with angelic chorus

my spirit band
leaves me exhilarated
alive and connected
ego decimated

we’re in this together
we’re all one
a dream told me
love is devotion

love is simple
and to love everyone
is to see beauty in foibles
and to reconcile hurts done

but back to my band
of hairbrained mystics
hippies and conjurers
and psychedelic addicts

their songs in my throat
leave me breathless with glee
their philosophy in my heart
makes this dreamer a devotee

thanks for the poetry
and harmonic reverberations
your message of universal love
is returned with ovation

Poem: A Bird In Flight

nariposa — Fri, 10 Apr 2020 01:54:44 +0000

A Bird In Flight

A bird in flight

has not a care

As she glides

through the air

The wind and lift

keep her afloat

A berry or two

she may poach

The sights she sees

are one of a kind

Treetops and buildings

and the people inside

The wandering nature

of avian travel

Lets chirping thoughts

perk and unravel

She may break up this

soaring perspective

For a dive down to Earth

and a swoop back to Heaven

Her wings won’t be clipped

she will be free

And catch the westward breeze

full of glee

Poem: To Brothers

nariposa — Thu, 09 Apr 2020 01:29:42 +0000

To Brothers

my heart hurts
my face is flush
my stomach churns
I wish to be dust

accused of theatrics
and lack of empathy
accused of two faces
and everything in between

outside looking in
the mob seethes with scorn
inside looking out
I’m just distraught and forlorn

I accept myself
I wish you would too
I’m the same mousy dreamer
that you always knew

the pain I feel
is excruciating as nails
it pales to crucifixion
but my suffering is a hell

my life amounted to nothing
despite my big dreams
just the annoyance of others
who I hold in high esteem

I love you all like brothers
acquaintances many and friends few
I think you all are beautiful
if you only knew

the twilight of my life
could be a new beginning
I think instead I’ll fade
to blackness unrelenting

Poem: Allegro

nariposa — Wed, 08 Apr 2020 01:56:21 +0000

Allegro

performing live music
is a sublime experience
your body feels alive
from your heart to fingertips

raise your wand conductor
set magic at the ready
raise your bows strings
blast the timpani like confetti

begin in baited unison
parts diverge while minds converge
the orchestra as organism
one consciousness’ emotions surge

brass blow your horns
operatic wails
resolute percussion
winds in our sails

the rush of the allegro
the adagio’s delicate hush
hues of timbres mingle
in the composer’s paintbrush

all colors coalesce
in a finale grandiose
as the soloist finesses
that piercing final note

players catch your breath
the tempest is over now
the kinetic glow recedes
as we all take a bow

Poem: A Glance

nariposa — Tue, 07 Apr 2020 00:48:12 +0000

A Glance

Her look is a dirk
Rough and jagged
Through blackout eyes
Smoldering with contempt

Her glance can freeze
Men in their tracks
Alluring yet cruel
Irresistible and cool

A peek of her eyes
Leaves desire in the chest
But she won’t deign to see you
Only glance from askance

She’s regal, she’s fine
Her touch is deft
Soft like a kiss
Firm like a test

Go to see her
And you will meet
The ice princess of the ball
All legs and sleek

Know her fully
And see something more
A gown of defense
As she floats across the floor

Her furtive blink
Leaves a lasting impression
That of a woman
Chilled by her depression

With well meaning eyes
And warmth from a stranger
Her countenance revived
Her soul out of danger