Approaching the Hunt
(beginning with a line from Ntozake Shange)
Tim Martin
i.
we need a god who bleeds
over-dosed after twenty-five years
complex/an orison cyst
for those who breathe
an absent knot
ripped from a sterile promontory
to start look
in the direction of
another
hope/reason to begin with
ii.
it's one year later&i still
think about a victim bludgeoned
tied&left for our imaginations
i think of thorns
& how hawthorn can hold
together fragments
his name is among the rare spoken
this is not an elegy
for bleeding scarecrows
not a death poem
we need a god
who bleeds
iii.
whose wounds are not the end of anything
fury
at identified risk
careful geometry
cut soil
put down the carpenter's tool
it's a dirty little time
each frame
jostling cardinals
west-north-east-south
all exposure
there is no line
one of you denies me
one of you betrays me
simple alter
-ations trust
of a dog-eared lady
proven the finest
glatiation of the period
iv.
Dear Theo,
you aren't my brother, but what the hell?
i cannot talk of divinity today, nor of the implications of lap
top computers. this was before we knew of AIDS or the date
rape drug. is there something to move towards? doubt is the most
convenient substance to buy. just thought you'd like to know.
v.
Let songs in the bloodlines be sung
from bridges for seven more generations
Let reciprocity begin in the eaves
leaving the moon its cricket politics
Let it be enough to know
you have suffered someplace
Let skilled cutters come
who work with invisible tension
Let wounds be sewn
today, a simple feast
vi.
birth--
there are a thousand
metaphors for newness
viii.
a companion
a cradlesong
a cantilever
ix.
wrestle breaths out
like participating
in your gravestone
calm
so comely
fucking-up,
the mighty
causality
with no answer i find
completion
we need a god who bleeds
whose wounds are not the end of anything
