#2151 - Ishta

 

2151

6.323

20.xi.25

Ishta

vale

 

she

the wild weed

much reality affronted

here to make everyone think again

 

a handscratch on paper

piano, too, off on a frolic

oyster worlding

full of fun

at variance with all the odds

out dancing for the rain

 

I see her with the moon

making the effort to make no effort

doing the oyster grit thing again

 

sensuous – with a beach

with a tree to mulch

naked with

 

one remembers the saga of the lost keys

the broken car

she, of that fossick

as biblical now

 

attuned to rumour, superstition

well oiled, so scented

with world embrace credulity

 

impish and where you won’t expect

names herself goddess

why not?

vengeful as

 

community of one sometimes

one woman garden

tangent to the tribe

 

protesting great wrongs as one ought

 

taking for granted odd truths

preposterously pagan `

now and then hitting the nail on the head

 

you have to imagine her up in the clouds

there’s not the least evidence for this kind of thing

still it can’t be helped

if she was everywhere, not quite at once

 

most ends are bitter

now we’re beyond

 

it’s hard to believe all she was

it’s hard to believe things she did