Rebirth Jazz

[Guest guest]

Opus Effloresco

4/29/07

Since original sin got all chopped up,

She is risen indeed.

Luna moth came with her big purple eye

Just when I believed her extinct.

Come down to the river, you wouldn’t believe,

The orchestral burgeoning baritone and tenor.

Methuselah’s rings tell of pyramids and crucifixions.

Climaxed pine, wind’s evergreen lover,

Broken, raped and amber bled,

FEMA marked and tagged,

Remembers her kingdom –-

“plantae pinophyta pinopsida pinales pinaceae pinus…”

Come down to the river.

Where the yellow-crosses sprout

Bundles of needles crowning gold.

Risen indeed.

Beethoven is better off deaf to hear

The choir alleluia trees from all

Faiths gathered.

No number of human pipes could spell this out.

Buzzed, flip-flopping sunfish, river turtle flaps against the current,

Heron, grey and white, shuffle the air like a Blue Angel trumpeting.

A reunion of scattin’ sparrow.

Hummingbird wets his whistle

On the volunteer honey

Suckling the explosion of vine.

Ropes of jungle wood hang,

Unravel like busy backstage hands,

The show is truly going on.

Leaves curly cue around Magnolia,

Then gravies over wild privet.

Flora volunteer en masse.

Gardenia bushes nurse in thick bamboo shade.

Come down to the river, I tell ya.

Chucklin’, the sun just peeks through,

Smilin’ like -

“told you so…”

What?

You drop into the ocean so peaceful like

Sayin’

That’s how we shoulda done it?

And he just keeps rollin’.

Be back tomorrow, like regular.

Slow poke.

In three days 553 magnolias are gonna

Crack open in the night

Like a baby crownin’.

Stretch her white wings like the goddess Herself,

Sayin’ this is how a woman opens.

Get it?

Come down to the river, now,

The lightning bugs improvise.

Never had so many places to hide

And seek.

Bald Grandpa cypress – he’s seen it all–

Well, he shows his knees comin’ down the stream,

Like countin’ grandchildren

After the storm.

Of course they didn’t drown.

Smart asses.

Jesus Christ!

Nature knows.

What else.

Photosynthesis drunk as Bacchus on 12th night.

Every note of green scrambling down to the river.

Hell.

Even Willow tree’s got the scoop.

Bending her hair, dropping her tears to the creek –

“The buck stops here.”

She’s learned not to depend on the kindness of strangers.

That’s something her mama did.

And there it is.

Folks sit back.

A New World.

A cacophony choir of survivors,

Ringin’ home the babies,

From anywhere.

So loud you wanna cuss,

Holy Mother!

‘Cuz after Katrina dragged through

Sluggin’ up every dark dirty mouth

She could find –

Doesn’t matter what we say *now*.

Our mouths are clean.

Halleluiah!

The ancient oak arms are swingin’.

Halleluiah! Down to the river.

There’s a sermon going on

You’ve never heard before.

April 28, 2007

Miriam Gauthier

[Guest guest]

What an incredible poem! Perfect for the season, and so rich!Thanks,EveOpus Effloresco 4/29/07Since original sin got all chopped up,She is risen indeed.Luna moth came with her big purple eyeJust when I believed her extinct.Come down to the river, you wouldn’t believe,The orchestral burgeoning baritone and tenor.Methuselah’s rings tell of pyramids and crucifixions.Climaxed pine, wind’s evergreen lover,Broken, raped and amber bled,FEMA marked and tagged,Remembers her kingdom –-“plantae pinophyta pinopsida pinales pinaceae pinus…”Come down to the river.Where the yellow-crosses sproutBundles of needles crowning gold.Risen indeed.Beethoven is better off deaf to hearThe choir alleluia trees from allFaiths gathered.No number of human pipes could spell this out.Buzzed, flip-flopping sunfish, river turtle flaps against the current,Heron, grey and white, shuffle the air like a Blue Angel trumpeting.A reunion of scattin’ sparrow.Hummingbird wets his whistleOn the volunteer honeySuckling the explosion of vine.Ropes of jungle wood hang,Unravel like busy backstage hands,The show is truly going on.Leaves curly cue around Magnolia,Then gravies over wild privet.Flora volunteer en masse.Gardenia bushes nurse in thick bamboo shade.Come down to the river, I tell ya.Chucklin’, the sun just peeks through, Smilin’ like -“told you so…”What? You drop into the ocean so peaceful like Sayin’That’s how we shoulda done it?And he just keeps rollin’. Be back tomorrow, like regular.Slow poke.In three days 553 magnolias are gonna Crack open in the nightLike a baby crownin’.Stretch her white wings like the goddess Herself,Sayin’ this is how a woman opens. Get it?Come down to the river, now,The lightning bugs improvise.Never had so many places to hideAnd seek.Bald Grandpa cypress – he’s seen it all–Well, he shows his knees comin’ down the stream,Like countin’ grandchildrenAfter the storm.Of course they didn’t drown.Smart asses.Jesus Christ!Nature knows.What else.Photosynthesis drunk as Bacchus on 12th night.Every note of green scrambling down to the river.Hell.Even Willow tree’s got the scoop.Bending her hair, dropping her tears to the creek –“The buck stops here.”She’s learned not to depend on the kindness of strangers.That’s something her mama did.And there it is.Folks sit back.A New World.A cacophony choir of survivors,Ringin’ home the babies,From anywhere.So loud you wanna cuss,Holy Mother!‘Cuz after Katrina dragged throughSluggin’ up every dark dirty mouthShe could find –Doesn’t matter what we say *now*.Our mouths are clean.Halleluiah! The ancient oak arms are swingin’.Halleluiah! Down to the river.There’s a sermon going onYou’ve never heard before.April 28, 2007Miriam Gauthier