Evolutionary Fiction & Poetry

Jennifer Ley Poetry


Not Blasphemy
(for Norbert)

This is not blasphemy.  I welcome you
back to me, the reinvented son of the daughter
of the father whose star is rising.

You are gone from me no more, for now
you dwell within, a father who through
his first born shines, tall in each plant

I entrust to the sleeping Earth, quiescent
in the leaping of my mind at work,
the linear foundation for the home

I've built.  This is no castle in the sky.
I've sacrificed the lambs, banned the quilt.
You bloom in each garden of my knowing.

Send your nectar out, though dead and gone
you're growing.  I'm large enough to hold us
in the palm of my once dimpled hand,

to sing the father born of daughter,
the anima inside the man.  We are
the newest loaf, and seeded, we are rising.


An Accounting

You were the jaguar's son,
the Jade King, and I
the augurer

Chak was weary and sent
no rain, so I bled
the tongues of doves

I read the veins
in the scrotum of a bull

Sang down the heavens
looking for a morning star

but still the frogs
were silent

Now wise men and women
come, measure the weight
of the bull's balls

carbon date the feathers
I left as futile messengers
They mark the ascendant stars

Chak was not weary they
proclaim, this culture
marked its zenith

then slipped into nadir,
could not find
heaven's scale of balance

The jaguar's son lies buried,
silent under his green mask

and I, I am in that circle
of hell where Chak sent me
to heft the uncertain weight
of what we were
when you were howling


After the Bang, as the Gases Swirl


I keep trying
to produce a planet
that can rise in the same sky
as that level five magnitude star
you've made of yourself
But you burn too hot, too close
everything just ends up vapor
tattered clouds

Perhaps that's why its so hard to discern a shape
in this landscape
Too much subterranean activity
Too much magma
I guess I'm old fashioned
I like my stone solid
something to depend on beneath the feet
 

Foget about the age of Man
I can't even get Cambric
let alone launch a fish from the sea
spawn fins to hands

Fossils are fine
if you have the time
and the perspective
to play paleontologist
But I'm afraid I've only been given
one dance in my present costume
of woman hair
and long spangled leg

I'll just end up pressed
along with the trilobites
Trapped
a bit of amber you can use
for another woman's necklace
a relic of some old religion
no one understands anymore

Turn down the volume, please
just for an instant
so I can get close enough to figure out
how to exist with you in the same sky

 

You may contact Jennifer Ley at: anemone@viconet.com


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