© 2008 Susan Aurinko

Evora

 

 

In Evora there is a church

and the church was once a mosque 

and the mosque was once a church

and the church was once a temple 

in the time of the Romans

 

Behind the altar there is a false tomb

and beneath a Christian name 

there are thousands of years of roots writhing through stone

and water echoes up vertebrae 

which must have been steps 

and its light is the juice of emeralds 

 

Now, consider the well that is my throat

and the pool that is my chest

 

What does one do when a well has been capped for so many generations?

Is water safe in the stomach?

 

How did I become addicted to a self-imposed periphery, its tithes, 

its prick and its poison?

Can all of this be unlearned in one generation, one season, one summer?

 

My grandfathers and grandmothers 

and their grandparents meet 

for the first time in me

I carry them to familiar places

I am their hands, their thighs, their nose, 

their eyes, their lips, their teeth, 

their tongue

 

How did I become addicted to a self-imposed periphery, its tithes, 

its prick and its poison?

Can all of this be unlearned in one generation, one season, one summer?

 

I am the voice and the body now

and all that is closed will be opened

and all that hurts will be repaired

and all that sleeps without dreaming 

will be green again

 

In Evora there is a church

Inside the church there is a tomb

and inside the tomb there is a cistern

Inside the cistern there is water 

and it’s light is the juice of emeralds 

 

 

© 2005 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

 

Rouge

 

 

 

 

 

Tu pense bien que tu vie

Je vois seulement que tu pense.

et moi, je vie pour tes yeux,

un mignon trompe-la-balance.

Nous créons rien.

 

et je t'enprie

pensons avec nos yeux

créons en souriant

ascendants en soleil

vivons en respirant 

les couleurs du vent.

 

Et, Va

continue faire ta naissance

Et moi

je continue a ma naissance

 

 

Ce moment, c'est le travail triomphant

Un petit soufle de la joie.

J'aimerai un ballon rouge, et la mer,

et, une poire d'anjou.

 

Pensons avec nos yeux

créons en souriant.

Ascendants en soleil,

vivons en respirant

les couleurs du vent.

 

© 2008 Carrie Ingrisano & Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

You think that you are living.

I see only that you are thinking. 

Myself, I live for your eyes,

A charming little stumble.

And together we create nothing.

 

Let's think with our eyes,

creation in a smile,

our ancestry in light,

we live breathing in

the colors of the wind.

 

You go..

continue with your birth,

and I will 

continue with my birth.

 

This moment is

our triumphant work,

a little puff of joy.

I would have a red balloon

the ocean...

and an anjou pear.

 

So let us think with our eyes,

creation in a smile,

our ancestry in light,

we live breathing in 

the colors of the wind.

 

 

© 2008 Carrie Ingrisano

 

Trop foncée

 

I could not sleep while you slept. 

Any little animal might have sheltered 

in your body; and I kept 

leaves from your eyes and things from your hair 

until your lips revived, bending 

back my fingers to the lessons

of water and thirst. 

 

Fires that night digested the wet, 

and when their long viridian 

became your arms and a delirium 

became our legs, threads 

relinquished us, and we were not puppeted 

by earth, and we were not puppeted 

by heaven. We became 

larger than form and texture and scent--

something like clouds--and fear was driven 

from the manger of our bellies, and anger's thin 

lips could not diminish us. 

 

We ate everything that was red, 

and everything red 

was delicious. My sap was greening 

your milky body, then your legs slapped. 

They slapped into fins and you arced 

and my chin and 

ear separated, and silver and more silver and silver 

again, I quivered behind you.

 

 

Orphalines de nos rêves

tes chausettes cachées au fond du lit

Elles attends avec moi 

 

Aussi la dans la Méditerranée

chaque nuit est trop foncée

 

 

© 2008 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

© 2008 Susan Aurinko

 

 

Each Body Beautiful

 

It is sky in your eyes I see

It is life in your lungs, breathe freely

You are the one 

You are the one 

 

Twelve thousand skies

Twelve thousand nights

I should have known I would outgrow

A fascination with empty

 

 

Always ready to be unloosed from satin and the white bodice 

of clouds

each body beautiful, its river, its sinuous logic, its deliberate destination

 

Awake, asleep, awake, asleep, awake, asleep

Moving in three directions,

towards the sun, away from exhausted deities, away from death

 

There I am before death and here after:

in the hesitation between leaves, 

in the hesitation between knees 

 

 

© 2008 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

 

 

 

 

Khora Sfakia

 

 

I walk among the whores of Sfakia, the once beautiful 

sons and daughters hoarding fragments, lording and ladying 

and burning from the altars of their lips all instinct

still migratory.

 

For them the paths of scree to the promontory 

decay at the turning of the sky. They hobble to the one tree 

where an attendant is also a boatman and negotiate 

a passage back. 

 

I am pressed to vertical 

earth, hatless, mapless and without sunglasses. 

Golden bellied birds flash in a swift geometry upon lapis 

lazuli, and I tremble with the thrill 

of superstition: What spirits are these? Whose soul cries 

from the mouth of the ass?

 

Now, the water is a Leviathan

and ready to swallow. 

It thrashes about, not content with its containment, 

neither convinced nor concerned that lungs 

need land.

 

 

The whores of Sfakia wheeze and sleep with mouths open 

and lamps glaring and garments pressed to their eyes. 

If their messiah were to come in the night, 

I could not follow, for this is not a Diaspora, and the Son 

and the Father are only one half 

of one God.

 

I wonder why the earth supports us. We expect so much 

and renew so little.

 

It's Hero and husband, back and forth and up 

and down, scattering bones of aborted destinies.

He first slurred the ancient name

of this place, Khóra Sfakia--The whores of Sfakia, he announced 

and everyone laughed, then laughed again and laughed 

all the next day.

Now, she and he and I are pinks upon the sand. 

 

We offer our knees to the waves, and Hero calls, and her call 

takes the body of a gull.

Each of us awakes from the truth of dreams to the lives 

of our own making.

 

 

The sea moves her skin and enters me. 

I do not fear translucence. I do not fear this pregnancy, 

for I am with me. 

 

 

© 2005 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

 

 

Circle

 

And when our cheeks were red as poppies

we blessed the night.

You wed me in the ocean

and I wore midnight.

 

We knew the sky

Cloud after cloud

And after all

Each leaf did fall

 

I have been awake since early light to walk

and smell the dampness drying from the stones.

Jon's got the coffee hot.

My hair is drippin.

I'm so grateful for his chatter.

Today you're going on the road. . . .

 

Here was the bright field of our gathering, 

and the shrill of the silence is the sound of our chorus, 

the memory of an intonation, little whistles and green stories, 

prayers we repeat in the gethsemane of our hearts.

 

Darlings of the water darkling, what did we know beyond 

the reflection of the low, stone bridge--

 

--And if I climb a little higher in the rocks

I can see you as you go

We'll let the sun kiss you

and let the wind touch you

this time.

 

and take this in remembrance of me.

Take this

of me

and take this

take this

take this

of me

 

We knew the dark 

The slightest spark

Could birth the sky 

And last the night

 

 

© 2009 Carrie Ingrisano & Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

One Life

 

If we were one God, we would feed each other 

everything; and everything would eat us, 

and we would never die. 

My tongues would serpent in your temple

where water becomes blood; 

and the pink imprint of our lips would be 

a talisman above the bed.

We would not need 

to protect our skin from light; we would not need 

to protect our skin from skin; 

and nothing red would be unclean 

at the mouth of the Tigris. 

 

 Long before there was one father in the sky

Words did not confuse and everything was all one life

 

All that dreams and greens and breathes its life

Back into you and you into me and me into trees

We're all one life

 

 

I am a green man, and I am my messiah now.

I am not embarrassed, I am not alone, I am 

not afraid.

I cannot lose anything, for nothing is mine.

And I will never be hungry, for everything is mine.

 

Look into each face

One storie's written in lines

All the waste, when after all we're mud and light

 

All that dreams and greens and breathes its life 

Back into you and you into me and me into trees

We're all one life

 

I love you. . . .

 

 

© 2005 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pink

 

If my certainty is causing you to doubt,

I can take it off for you.

If my purpose separates me 

from your thought,

I can take it off for you.

I can take it off for you 

and stand beneath the rising 

all pink and new,

and melt into the water surrounding you.

 

And when memories 

have covered you in veils

I will take them off for you.

When regrets make your voice a little frail,

I will take them off for you.

I will take them off for you

and gaze upon the children 

inside of you.

Allow me to.

 

© 2008 Carrie Ingrisano & Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

© 2008 Susan Aurinko

Scar (Just Anotehr Scar on the Body)

 

But sleep, a beaded talisman. Our hearts working 

as rain, fluttering 

 

forests of rose and bone, perpetually reborn, protected 

by thorns, 

 

where fear is sin

 

where no sword turns

 

where angels are the body within

 

each body a portal

 

Each window as hesitation?

What are salt and glass to me.

 

Just another scar on the body

You are always pointing to come home

 

 

You understand even if you pretend not to

The way the dying light favored you five hours later--

staining your blouse, staining our fingers

 

that last light lives in your body and the soul of your body 

as auric deities hidden in dripping caves

 

Just another scar on the body

Every arrow points to somewhere

You are always pointing to come home

 

 

Falling through the sky again

Living through each veil within

 

Deep into your summer

Try to find the source again

 

Just another scar on the body

Every arrow points to somewhere

You are always pointing to come home

 

 

© 2009 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

© 2008 Susan Aurinko

 

En hiver

 

Le soleil 

ne brille jamais

en hiver,

...hiver.

Mais ta voix 

brille toujours.

 

Je cueille 

les petites gouttes 

de ta voix au vaisseau.

Ce vin d'hiver

guarde ma chaleur.

 

© 2008 Carrie Ingrisano & Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

 

 In Our Heart

 

True the sky, white-winged light

All begins again

 

Green and blue I am only as free as you

Each of us is born to a destiny

 

No matter what is said or done

The future has just begun

All is born in our hearts

 

Alone and free

to follow the sky inside of me 

To follow the light, the leaves, each dream implied

I’m just beside you always

 

Hold me close, this night is almost over.  .  .  .

 

No matter what is said or done

The future has just begun

All is born in our heart

 

 

© 2008 Richard Fammerée, Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

Shine

 

Now I know why I’m sitting in the sky. . .

All I really want to do is shine like you

 

Just this morning I decided to be free again

Just this morning I decided to me again

And shine like you

 

All I want is to be happy

 

 

© 2008 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

 

 

My Hidith

 

 

Unwind the parchment of my heart

and search its symbols.

I find no laws that keep me from loving you.

 

And if you were my sister

I would braid your scribbled hair,

and barefoot we would go in the water.

 

If I was your sister

you would henna both my hands

and feed me our grandmother's yoghurt.

 

We'd play running games with our brothers

....running games with our brothers

W'e play .....running games with our brothers

and laugh....laugh at our genius.

 

Where does love school to become fear? 

Where do hearts train to be siteless? 

 

Where do brothers learn to be killers!

Where do brothers learn to be killers.....

Maiming the fathers and withering mothers.

 

Don't they recognize each other's eyes.... don't they recognize....each other's eyes 

 

I'll hold the pen

You write the words the laws of our heart.

and, this is my Hidith { our law of heart }

...this is my Hidith 

Our Law of Heart.

 

© 2008 Carrie Ingrisano

 

 

 

 

Fire Light

 

 

Paint a body 

on my soul.

Make it big enough 

to take me whole.

Paint it high

up in the sky,

any colour

that you like.

 

Tie an anchor 

to my heart.

Keep it tethered

to the deepest part.

Then cast it wide

out into the sea.

You keep just a part of me.

 

As we belong to the ocean.

As we belong to the sky.

We are angels.

We are angels, you and I.

 

Write the legends

of my life.

The words will comfort peoples minds.

Then close your eyes 

and you will see

the fire side of me.

 

We are fire

We are light.

 

We are fire

We are light.

 

© 2008 Carrie Ingrisano

 

 

 

Notre Dame (Blue & Green)

 

Blue and green, somewhre in between

That's all I really know where life flows

 

Green and blue, someone like you

Love always knows where life flows

 

Our Mother who art in everyone, 

everything is thy name.

 

Thy garden serene, thy waters green

the earth as they blue the heavens.

 

Thank you for our daily bread and the blessing 

that no one can be satisfied until everyone is fed.

 

Forgive our ignorance as we forgive 

those who ignore you in each of us.

 

Lead us from fear and deliver us from anger 

and anxieties, 

 

for life is a ripening to return to you, to feed you,

to seed you,

 

to be reborn forever and ever

 

Again

 

 

© 2005 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

Left Eye of the Moon

 

 

There is a room in a wall, and the wall is mud, 

and the mud, crenelated and pink. 

There is a bed and cold-water sink and two pillows.

One window is pomegranate, the other pregnant. 

They whisper over our bed 

from the starry book of the dead 

a story of two inseparable children. 

Now that I've found you

Every sun in the sky will be drawn to you

You are the tree of life kicking blanket 

and sheet to the foot of the bed. 

You are the book of life Hebrews undress 

and spread upon velvet, 

caress with a silver finger and silk and knots of silk. 

You are a chalice raised high as my arms can hold you,

jeweled in front and smooth in back.

Inside you I am transubstantiated into blood 

and the breath of blood. 

What church can refute this miracle?

Now that I've found you

Every sun in the sky will be drawn to you

 

 

© 2008 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP

 

Someday

 

 

Someday you’ll be wandering to somewhere

Starting a new page in a story begun with us

 

Someone will be singing beside you

repeating a chorus written the night before

 

Somewhere over a rainbow

where your mother is always this young 

and beautiful

 

Conspicuous as a sonnet, I pass through 

shadows. I do not know their names and 

I decide not to count. There are so many 

going up the hill and back, alongside the 

vein of meadowsweet and loam. They are 

a forest. They are a frost. I am their field. 

Each ancestor rising one summer higher 

in a line, planted along the rutted road 

which is now a footpath for fewer and 

fewer.

It was a Roman lane, their tomb a mound

sprouting yew and laurel, pregnant two 

thousand years. They return to recall as do 

their descendants, my ancestors. One day, 

my daughter will come here and tell this 

story to her grandchildren, and they will 

sit within my shade and shiver with 

mysteries as she, three months old today, 

looks up my tall, deciduous body into 

leaves.

 

Somewhere over a rainbow

where you are is always this young 

and beautiful

 

Often I am singing beside you

writing this song again 

as we once did so long ago

 

 

© 2005 Richard Fammerée/Nomadica Musica & Poetry, ASCAP