Woman with Yellow Hair. Pablo Picasso. 1931.
Desire’s Persistence
Yo ave del agua floreciente duro en fiesta.
—“Deseo de persistencia,” Poesía Náhuatl
1
In the region of rain and cloud,
I live in shade,
under the moss mat of days bruised
purple with desire.
My dominion is a song in the wide ring of water.
There, I run to and fro,
braiding the logical act
in the birth of an Ear of Corn,
polychromatic story I will now tell
in the weaving, power's form in motion,
a devotion to the unstressed.
Once, I wreathed around a king,
became a fishing net, a maze
“a deadly wealth of robe.”
Mothers who have heard me sing take heart;
I always prick them into power.
2
Y vengo alzando al viento la roja flor de invierno.
(I lift the red flower of winter into the wind.)
—Poesía Náhuatl
Out of the ninth circle,
a Phoenician boat rocks upward into light
and the warmth of a name—given to heaven—
that arises in the ninth realm.
Earth's realm discloses the Egyptian
on the point of invention,
deprived of life and death,
heart deep in the soul's hawk,
a thymos shadow knapping the tombed body.
Some one or thing is always heaven bound.
Some flowered log doubles my bones.
The spirit of Toltec turtledoves escapes.
A sharp, metaphorical cry sends me
into the adorned sepulchre,
and the thing that decays learns
how to speak its name.
Down Hidalgo,
past Alvarado and Basurto,
I walk a straight line
to the snailed Pasco Los Berros.
Here, at noon, the sun,
a silver bead,
veils what the dawn has displayed.
Even so,
I have taken up the morning's bond again
—the lake with its pendulum leg
shining in the distance,
the boy in white
hauling his bottle of chalky milk home.
I know I sit in the deep of a city
with its brocade of hills,
where a thin rain is an evening's fire.
I have heard the women sing
near their gas lamps,
when the rose end of day lights a hunger
for the garlanded soups and meat they prepare.
Often, I have taken the high ground
by the pond, over a frog's voice
dampened by lilies,
and been exalted by the soothsayer
who knows I'm not at home.
I am the arcane body,
raised at the ninth hour,
to be welcomed by the moonlight
of such spirited air.
I am the Dane of degrees
who realizes how the spirit glows
even as it descends.
JAY WRIGHT
LAMAT
Kin 228: Yellow Resonant Star
I channel in order to beautify
Inspiring art
I seal the store of elegance
With the resonant tone of attunement
I am guided by the power of universal fire.
As we develop the telepathic pulsar technologies, we will see the potential of our mind as a powerful cosmic force.*
*Star Traveler's 13 Moon Almanac of Synchronicity, Galactic Research Institute, Law of Time Press, Ashland, Oregon, 2014-2015.
Ajna Chakra (Gamma Plasma)
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