Autumn Poetry | December 2, 2021
Astral Projections
by Jade Oates
Talking To The Sun
from a blanket on the grass
i confronted him like a nervous child.
i had never talked to the sun before
but i had heard of many poets who did,
so i started shyly, “Hi”
and the sun bellowed his hearty salutation
lifting up the cries of little birds
who had nested in the trees all around.
when the cacophony settled down, i tried again
“leave a poem in my ear,” i murmured, hopelessly
looking away from him, i watched a little sheep wander hapless in the field
“Open your heart,” the sun commanded.
i could not, i trembled and hid
until i could stand it no longer:
“Put a poem in my ear!” I cried,
and the sun blazed, “OPEN YOUR HEART!”
“I cannot!” I cried,
“You must,” the sun replied,
So I reached between my breasts and pulled my rib cage apart
to reveal a heart cold and crystalized with frost.
The sun blazed, and made the crystals glitter
“Is it really that bad?” he asked, warm and smiling, lifting it up and turning it over
while the ice fell away
burning crimson, to molten gold, all ablaze
A heart on fire, glittering in the rays
lying now breathless on my blanket
clutching tight this precious secret
the heart, still burning,
beating, and immediate.
I Become An Alien At Bedtime
In the black night
lifted up in anti-gravity
rocketed full force
through the depths of space
Setting sail to possible doom,
or to a soft glowing diamond,
circling around a far-off point of light that sings,
that rings a deep and timeless song
Longing for it
Swirling toward it
but facing a vast abyss
swinging blindly in the void
an astronaut exploring a heavenly body,
the gravity of my existence dissipates
Weight is a forgotten game
In shadows, light and floating
I have lost my name.
I would like to tell you this
brushing your teeth in the soft bathroom light
but I can only spin madly in the next room
thinking of William Carlos Williams.
I lie in bed and watch you
practicing tai chi
I can only signal, send back a future artifact,
shoot up solar flares–Something like that,
an extraterrestrial assertion: “I am here!”
I couldn't muster more
but as you lift your hands
pulling some force up from deep below
and raising it above your head
my underground rivers rise up
oceans spill over
and my longing for a distant singing star
is all upon me
I am full of feeling
Your hands directing tides of a cosmic happening
I am pulled into a deeper gravitation
I am starry eyed with tears,
I am making contact at last.
Sitting Inside The Sun
Before I opened the door, I did not know
That inside the sun
It would sound like a bell
Listen–
The sun emits a music all its own
Which lays a kiss on my ear in this eternal morning
And deafens me
You told me once,
to behold the sun is to interpret it.
An interpretation …
What emerges then might only emerge almost,
is already vanishing
(Remember the hyacinth girl: She was blind and deaf
when she looked into the heart of light)
Now, inside the sun,
we sit on another side of this shining veil:
Made deaf by the sun’s sound
And blind in the sun’s light
We are the elemental origin–
Is this dying or being born?
This force spinning forms
swells and crashes
We transform
We are stirred in the alchemist’s elixir
Spinning at the center of Time
Still in eternity, the clock unwinds
And what are we now?
What am I?
Sitting on the inside
Am I a girl?
Do I sleep?
Am I dream
or dreaming?
I vanish: I emerge
A shadow within the Light,
A song within the Sound