Author Information
One With the Never-Ending
I close the lid on
this simmering sky
and live on silence
till I'm safe
and coiled
in ebony and belief
and I no longer thirst
for things
that can own me—
those brief, brassy things—
such as the warm, crashing
blood of loveless passion
and all that I mourn
in my old plastic
heaven.
Loyal Earth and
Sacred Text
of the Beyond,
sky full
of bubbling telepathy:
you just . . .
know.
My Polaris, my moon, my
lost self, found,
I get it now:
Pain was only half-truths
and desire.
How cleansing,
the wicked cold,
Night the Devourer,
My one complete now,
not unlike the pulsing
fever of human need.
The forest is an
Assembly of many sages
when I see it
without eyes—
emptiness . . .
what relentless purity—
when there is
nothing left but
infinity playing notes
of spheres
and raven trances
and fitful light.
Something genuine
outside of time
tells me this brand
of Love
will never leave
and I am all of That
and all that
I need.
Patricia Joan Jones
Not having been hospitalized
Not having been hospitalized yet, I can take a moment to comment on this next example of Patricia's poetic greatness. I apologize in advance if I make typos and fail to catch them: the right hand is still not fully functional.
As I read it, the poem has two centers of gravity---like a binary star system---that orbit each other: the three lines that mention Polaris, the moon, and the found self; and the image of infinity playing notes of spheres. In both she demonstrates her usual and powerful skill of poetic fusion---joining the cosmic with the personal. I have written elsewhere of the cosmos explaining itself to itself and to us, and doing that through us, and this also defines Patricia's Poetry in one of its most dramatic functions. (College students take note: a major in Literature, specifically Poetry, and a minor in Astronomy will give you powerful insight into her Poems.)
The poem, like her others, shows that the fusion of the cosmic and the personal brings the soul to a triumphant moment, described in the last eight lines, where it finds "this brand / of Love / will never leave . . . ." And the poem arrives at this conclusion after passing through several obstacles, conditions, or intrusions that seem to vie with each other in order to block the path to the last eight lines, but still fail to do so. And the cosmos is the venue in which this process can happen for each and every person. Our flesh is made of elements fused from hydrogen in the cores of stars, and then made the bearers of souls gifted to us by God. And the Cosmos, as beautiful, and vast, and intricately designed as it is was also deliberately designed, by God, without a soul: that is where we come in. The linkage of our souls in that "brand / of Love / will never leave" gives the Cosmos its soul, its sentience, and its sole awareness of itself. And the Poems of Patriciajj, like the Poems of the greatest Poets (beginning with Callimachus, then Vergil, and then forward) show us how this process works.
Starward
This comment is misplaced logistically
Please forgive my incompetence.
Starward
I'm overwhelmed that you took
I'm overwhelmed that you took the time to examine my poem with such depth and wisdom, and that you even left a comment. I honestly didn't expect the honor of your presence right now, knowing how dire your condition is. I have been keeping you in my prayers, the same way you so generously keep others in yours.
May healing light pour through you and renew you.
As always, you uplift me with details about why you felt something worked, and this always encourages me more than words can say.
Thank you, again and again, for your superlative review (complete with your own breathtaking interpretation of our place in the cosmic order) that unearthed everything I intended to convey with stunning accuracy and excellence.
I could never thank you enough. Prayers and every blessing.
I should like to thihk that
I should like to thihk that the sudden improvement happened so that I could stay out of the hospital long enough to comment on this wonderful poem. I do not know why the situation that began two days ago suddenly improved, but my right hand seems to be functional again, and the right leg now bears my weight better than on Monday. And I am glad to have read this great poem when I did; it helped me feel better about the present moment.
Also, I sincerely apologize for misplacing my reply earlier. I have tried to repair the error as best I could. Sorry.
Starward
I wouldn't have thought twice
I wouldn't have thought twice about it if the reply was left in its original place, only that it was the most uplifting and inspiring reply. Besides, I've made real errors on this site you wouldn't believe!
It's always a pleasure when you stop by, and what amazing news! I couldn't be more pleased that you're feeling better and that you found some comfort in my expression. That's a reason to keep scribbling my thoughts, I believe.
Thank you immensely for your untiring support. I truly value your opinions and your radiant works of art.
Unlike broken globeminds
Unlike broken globeminds,
The largest, shattered shards
And "infinity playing notes"
Yours are the real soothsayer,
Love-language of a mystic,
Materialized with the kinda
Verse it's always deserved.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes
Oh great word mage, thank you
Oh great word mage, thank you for seeing what I wanted to be seen, for encouraging me beyond words and for expressing it in your own stellar style that never fails to amaze me.
You're an artist and an uplifter. It doesn't get better than that. Endless "thank you"s!