When the past hits the present
we take it with our open mouths.
Our tongue like flags
enunciating conversation
and speaking like a captain
would of the long journey
to come.
Many cross the steps to the big
table of musical chairs,
in and out
forward and backward
introductions and ways and means
and maps bought out
with our fingertips -
just a dance of new life rolled up
and soaked solid
of the past.
An antecedent
marvelous and dirty like the earth - speaking
the language of a researcher
lapping up news and data
tablets and trials - dogs and rats
for the transport ahead.
A wild hairy mastman
struck with loyalty
but drunk with the post of direction
and willed like the wind - to stand
between and under all
an astronomy of mysteries
the phenomena of earthly patterns
so ingrained in the turning
of time
that the road to synchronization
is a hurricane of turns - compassless.
As guests we take our assigned seats
in our hands and slowly with age
relax our body down on chair top.
Then there are others
like ancient
children who stand on
the cushion with their feet
and beat their drum
in their sweaty chest like a
caged monkey set
free - for the first time -
reconstructing and unraveling
a new language of contemplation
that the blue moon
brings
and takes away
so gentle
so fine
like the riddle
of a black sky
and an ascending
June moon.
-- Jennifer Henbest de Calvillo
