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Birth of a Song

Birth of a Song

 

Mother of fine goddesses, tone felt,
skies rubbing against each other
the Earth in its usual whirl, but unsettled
hearing the timbre of the creaking of creation
the unleveling of tones related to the birth of song
uncertainty except for talent in the genes
and knowhow of many years of playing instruments,
what are you hearing now, what subtle colors
of the sound of ancient faces, mythologies of
constant levels of the Earth surfacing
demand for recognition of gold of stone of wood
of the hand of music, of the body and soul of time
revealed as it only is by artisan believers in given inspiration
even gifted by gods, priests, the formulating sisters of all time

 

what is work without the sound hearing while doing it
lutes drums whistles voices weaving out of mouths texts
manuscripts memory of grandfather stories
in melodious telling as now, stripped of script
there is only the cycle of day night seasons growing
dying books full of pictures of all the stories of
what is threatened to be destroyed as culture comes under fire
discontinuant roots, ancient art teetering on blindness
deafness ignorance all sensitivity of the music of the artisan lost –
why not destroy and make room for more children amongst the rubble.

 

But the books unfold folios of distant past
and the presence of museums open like doors to the unknown
and living enthusiasts of old bring it into the new –
female figures, arms raised, fashioned from Nile mud
Hera emerging from her bath in the springs
Anahita in the center of a Sassanian dish
with animals and an array of gods
bearded priest-king of Mohenjo-Doro, Indus valley,
beautiful ten-armed Durga riding her tiger, slaying the dragon
threatening to dethrone the gods
the Lady-Queen of the West, Hsi Wang Mu furnishing peaches of immortality for the
gods banqueting(she-wong- myoo)
humorous false-face mask of Iroquois, red with poochy mouth and
long black horsehair
intricate boar-head from Melanesia, lower tusks in circles
and the incredible Xochiquetzal goddess of flowers and love
speaking and singing from the Codex Barbonicus

 

only we are protectors, as voices out of the landscape
gardeners of art, mothers of fine goddesses in the hearts of men
putting women in charge, and drawing back the destruction
allowing the Earth into consciousness and singing playing the
discovery of open mind soul spirit cave creek, identification of almost
every flower, something to make up music about or from
the core center history voices articulating the shapes already given
in this prayer fold word painting, the Earth in its usual whirl
the settling unsettling settling, the strength of many in one of all
the ones in many, many of us, unleveling of tones and the birth of song.

 

_______________________

 

larry goodell / placitas, nm / 10apr2017

Larry, born in Roswell, has spent most of his life in Placitas.. He started his own brand of performance poetry in late 60’s. He has collaborated with artists, taught and started workshops. He emphasizes performance but promotes the poet as publisher as his Duende Press proves. His writing often generates from gardening, from word-play,  from the socio-political and from his love and long relationship with Lenore Goodell. See http://www.larrygoodell.com/ and check out some of his collection here http://www.granarybooks.com/collections/goodell/