This November, by Anny Ballardini | TRUCK November Issue 2014
Anny Ballardini
Truck, November Issue 2014
This November,
With a well in my self
Draining water to saints
Kierkegaard’s paradox
From Socrates’s endless testing
Rules
While looking into the black pond
For answers
__God answers
Inwardly
This November,
Appalling month
Over 100 answered
Joining mine to theirs – yours / ours
Under Saint Cecilia’s patronage
Musicians blew their horns
Organs woke many
While the girl grew ecstatic
In thinking she could
Be
This November,
Thick in air stuffed with light
In closed rooms
At night
Trying to think
When thought gets lost
In and out of self
To accommodate
Past / future events
On a ten fragmented score
This November,
Has seen mountain peaks
Kneel
Sturdy Siqueiros’s hands
Leak tears and grow roses
On Time’s façade
Ancestors chant
Interpretative Chinese lantern plants
Decorate Proust’s monumental
Writings
This November,
Talks
Of seeds and piano keys
Of herbs
Of
Of vincristine
Of
Of crashed & renewed hopes
Of the makers of Illusions
Of a Leap of Faith
This November,
Smiles down at us
With its temperate sun
Its derailed tracks
Its alarm clocked underground routine
Messages on trains and greyhound busses
Slit throats bathed in the forgiveness of popes
Sacraments soaked in the concept of
Anxiety
Brevity
This November,
Without choice
The eleventh
Set as an Acheronian stud in a cameo
The rows of windows
People dis/appear in dim streets
They dis/appear in my mail
Their white poems against the black of Truck
With my acknowledgment to my
Moving November Poets
This November,
In the life of all
Distanced in our flesh
Distracted in our oaths
Hyper-attentive
Booted steps in echoing bells
Coats / cloaks
“Anything but loss”
Pleading for the word God gives to the Just
From those milky sky-s.
This November,
Cold at the end
In the bones
With Thanksgiving on Fb
Teas honey chestnuts
Coughing
Giving thanks:
The girl is still alive
Distant
But still alive.
© Anny Ballardini
TRUCK November issue 2014
word pond 