poetryrepairs #197 v14.02:013
013POETq2 : Call for Submissions
WARD KELLEY : Pushing, Pushing

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A Sea Dirge
I once saw, where the horizon ends, a ship ploughed the sky. White tears on pale blue, I saw the waiting darkness; I knew, before any others, it would be a starlit night. Look, I said, but it was too late, the ship had cast anchor behind a cloud loading mist for Dogger Banks, and take onboard discarded dreams to plug the dikes of Amsterdam. Sunflowers on mythical sea and red flying fish, my ship is bound for the Saragossa Sea with cargo of old sailors, here, they come to stalk in fog of the forgotten.

poetryrepairs #197 v14.02:013

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
The Art of Reading

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poetryrepairs #197 v14.02:013

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I will not write with pen and ink
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WARD KELLEY Pushing, Pushing
You were driven, you know (why, oh why, can't I) and never did locate the correct way out, or proper note to score the flight all the way, all the way. There was something pushing, pushing, from within your being, while your fame and marriages and suicides propelled you through all our decades like a wiry wisp . . . although you know the real impellent generates at the core of your soul. There, there boils the fury of being . . . of residing on this side, a tantrum against this shackle of body; so it never mattered very much if you sang out right, or married right, or performed to expectations; what mattered was the expression of fury channeled into some acceptable means to be heard or seen around this imperfect world. Why, oh why, oh why can't this vision of soul let you go? Why can't you . . . you knew all along you couldn't . . . you knew none of us really could . . . yet you were the wisp who even though you knew you couldn't, still yearned out your trembling question, why, oh why, can't I.

from Histories of Souls by WARD KELLEY
poetryrepairs #197 v14.02:013

Poetry endangers the established order
of the soul - Plato

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition.

poetryrepairs #197 v14.02:013
WARD KELLEY : Pushing, Pushing

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