Code Breakers

code breakers: a rain of apostrophes


what! fat sparrows winter red berries
the first thing to see—emptiness

emptiness! claim it round as fat
sparrows—smoke of flight

rowing thru blue air
clapping angels

beaks opening to
first longings

& close
tangles

the vines
& dry grass

silk & cinnamon
hurry! a brace of light

***

or when she fell & fell & fell in
with the long string honeyed plains—
wheeling silver hoops & clanging copper shells—
leafing green the ribbons twining braids
& braids & braids & braids—gingham straps
a soft sea sand like wheat spears drying
in the wide flat bellies of a thousand
giant paper dolls—how her doll rolls
gentle in long slow ripples—waves
like warm bath water lapping—lapping
at the gold rimmed edge of a great white
porcelain tub—who tied her to the earth—
who pulls her first here then there
but never all at once—her face still smiling—
they want her—heaven & earth—& that is a trembling
she folds twice & sews into the pocket of her
cornflower coat—how her toy dog barks—
tin seams bent—butterfly key turns—slip—
crank it tighter—she cut out the doll—
used gold plated scissors—the ones mother lost
in the fire of fortunate summer—o
this finger hole with the curved little tail—
that’s how you make a Q & an X or upside down
a fancy T— rough cut the trace lines of the tabs—
slotted into the far painted towns—
stitching rivers & ponds & corduroy fields—
hold her here—see the whole of her if you climb
the full pink moon—head in North Dakota—
her left foot dipping in the Gulf of Mexico—
right a Sonoran desert—arms in the stars—
color her with gold lamé & cinnamon sugar
pine needles & the cracked enamel of powder pots—
puffs dab dabbing cheeks & cold noses &
the uneven parts in her hair—
o lucky grandmother slathered in petroleum jelly
fluffy white robe dotted in big yarn balls of blood
red roses—fast piano flourish—hot jazz heart—
snowflake thunder—heaven stomping magpies—
parade of lean mountains flat on their backs—
play with me, Mama, like the ghosts with their
jangly tambourine eyes!

***

or simple how she
leans in, her
mouth to

his ear

what forms
a light to
open

a cut

the tip of
of her tongue
the skin trembling

as if the thing itself (world womb)

surface
water film
energy field

the roundness of the world
& the gentle pushing thru

how he knew when
the door slipped
into the flange

that first wound the bud pouring out the sky

a world of doors of skins
of leaning in—thru
her breath

is not a wound

neither bang
nor a whimper
but a sigh—

a sigh

***

how to think of the big bang or
logos: let there be
light

how there was surface/cut
a film & a push or
wait

perhaps a twist a weave
what if we thought
not of a piercing

but a wrapping
of strings
not

penetrating
but unrolling &
then folding unfolding

***

watch him at the bus stop
reading the yellowed
pages of a Kurt

Vonnegut novel: Sirens of
Titan or Marfa the CD
she made laughing

as if driving under
stars hung like
long pearls

of a thousand
glistening
men

o music that laughs
with nothing
to prove

she reminds him
that meaning
moves just

like Texas
clouds
pull

how she
played piano
like strings of rain

water in India
a glissando India—
a lotus rain—incessant

she types the words: a rain
of apostrophes: what
matters is unsaid

the boys drum deeper
into the festival
of the world

she said: we are code
breakers who do
not care at all

if there are
codes to
break

she says: shh
& his skin
glistens

***

who stirs green skin

the koi white
in copper
waters

she sits with him

a ghost at
the bus
stop

smoke for me

the long slow
ones with
cancer

far away

how she babbled
the last time on
the phone &

his attention

drifted

what had she said
what sorrow
had he

missed

her wading into
the ocean for
its healing

waves

unheard

& who holds
translation
singer

or song

so he listens
now to her
ghost

waiting for his bus

watery days
the coast
in mist

a stone

falling into
his green skin—
her white memory

or the last & first things we hear


Richard Lance Williams

Posted over on More Poetry