MARIA LUNA

(1)

We found the cavern's entry

halfway up the mountain

where the cedars grow thin,

and snow lasts 'til June.

There in the ground was buried

a cornice without inscription

it felt like a tomb though Maria Luna

swore it was not.

Rather the way to the chapel

of her ancestors,

those now disappeared from this earth,

there where a cure

may be found

And so we followed her first

through a cave which stank

of bat guano,

a tall hallway to judge by its echo,

and then through tunnels

which had to be crawled

o how it felt like

the weight of the world

was soon to be upon us

crushing our breath

only she knew the way

down the rickety stairway

or could find

the key to the door

at the floor of a well

carrying the lantern,

the vocative firelight,

among the mine's striations

refracted like a prism

or mineral bride

(sleep old Niobe sleep,

rock and cradled in grief)

2

Beyond the moonbeamish world of artifact,

stalactite and crystal,

Maria Luna where have you lead us?

Beyond reflective pools

in limestone grottoes

under the hill,

these tall columns

are caryatids if women,

atlantides, or Atlases, if men,

all of another age,our ancients:

but should they wake the world will end.

(sleep old Niobe sleep,

rock and cradle your grief)

3

Still I become as a moveless stone

or a nymph barked up in a tree,

salt of old time has stained my tongue

how the heart hardens

there is no rhyme

this is what turns when the spindle's done

the waters of Lethe are white

(sleep old Niobe sleep

rock and cradle your grief)

4

Nothing will be remembered when I am one,

nothing, not even the smallest detail,

simplest pleasure of simplest taste

all quite forgot and never replaced,

the rose aroma or fecal smell,

all quite forgot when I am one

when I am one I won't be alone

not with all that I've forgot,

neither the title or plot

neither the teller or tale,

neither the song or the spell

neither the snow or the sun

all will make sense when nothing is known

when I am one with what I've forgot,

I will be like a stone in the sun

who does not care

how the battle has gone

neither the teller or tale,

neither the song or the spell,

neither the title or plot,

neither the snow or sun

I will be one with what I am not

nothing will be what I am not

neither the snow or the sun,

neither the song or the spell,

neither the teller or tale,

neither the title or plot,

I will be one with what I've forgot,

I'll be like the snow on the stone

and the snow on the stone in the sun

(sleep old Niobe sleep

rocked and cradled in grief)

(march 11/ 2010)

( from a fragment in an old notebook)