Wednesday, March 10, 2010

from THE TWELVE || Sheila E. Murphy

Compassion

[ 1 ] All of her compassion, annotated as though God were scotch taped to the inner windshield and memorized by the person riding shotgun.

[ 2 ] Perennials shining in the moist sunlight, captivating yellows mixed with orange, and the recent shower let go on the surface making gleam occur to eyesight.

[ 3 ] People who claim love as mutuality suddenly break for lunch and don’t come back, despite children, home life, possessi ons, neighborly relations, including various individuals with names of herbs.

[ 4 ] Precision instruments no one plays unless betrothed to someone with an eye for craftsmanship, the ignorance bullies depend upon, or is it weakness, lack of taste, or simply missing innocence.

[ 5 ] Laughter in the eyesight that precludes all other homonyms, recognition being what it is, and missing things that typify areas yet unmeasured, like cadenzas, perfectly good, relaxed notation sprees.

[ 6 ] After all that schooling, paying of dues, and years away from what is loved by the innermost core, the fading recognition of what should be discernible, being treated like a cleanup artist.

[ 7 ] The “us” in any symphony you name may not mean more than what that music feels like to skin that has not touched another’s skin for very long, an artist without paper, without voice.

[ 8 ] Pro-bono work, long lines, men standing on four corners waiting to be hired for a half or full day, sky no color at all, raining down its solid light at once, the work in being where the moment lies.

[ 9 ] Taking dictation becomes love equipped to warm each thing within its field of vision, so that blooming happens naturally, then breaking away, one portion at a time, unmeasured.

[ 10 ] Signal cloth and recognition collide, then keeping score becomes the reason for the gesture anymore, bundled as a mummy toned beneath the wrappings, safe of course.

[ 11 ] Harm ridicules from where it lives, the mark of a good listener, evocation of the breast-fed curio that plays the parent in this equation, touch point on the drum skin, speaking in single syllables.

[ 12 ] Repartee, residual factors changing quality of soil, rehearsing blemishes, offering accord to millions who rehearsed their indecision like whole fields of undecided people turning to the war for work.

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