Josephine Sacabo and Dalt Wonk

For Paul Pines and Jon Newlin

with gratitude for their friendship.

Images and Poems by

Josephine Sacabo and Dalt Wonk

Published by Luna Press

1

Unearthed, like an idol — her features

dulled by the pious touch

of generations, rubbing out their fear,

the moon bewilders night

with her solitude. She is earth’s dead child —

doomed to perpetual return,

like the oceans, who grieve

on her white marble steps, and women,

her sisters, their bodies tuned to her.

What draws you to us, angel

of evil tidings, bearing the scent

of the eternal, whom you flee,

like a migratory bird

fleeing the death of summer.

THE MOON

Unearthed, like an idol — her features

dulled by the pious touch

of generations, rubbing out their fear,

the moon bewilders night

with her solitude. She is earth’s dead child —

doomed to perpetual return,

like the oceans, who grieve

on her white marble steps, and women,

her sisters, their bodies tuned to her.

What draws you to us, angel

of evil tidings, bearing the scent

of the eternal, whom you flee,

like a migratory bird

fleeing the death of summer.

THE MOON

1

Unearthed, like an idol — her features

dulled by the pious touch

of generations, rubbing out their fear,

the moon bewilders night

with her solitude. She is earth’s dead child —

doomed to perpetual return,

like the oceans, who grieve

on her white marble steps, and women,

her sisters, their bodies tuned to her.

What draws you to us, angel

of evil tidings, bearing the scent

of the eternal, whom you flee,

like a migratory bird

fleeing the death of summer.

THE MOON

1

2

3

4

5

TWIL IGHT Softly, our renegade fragments

fit back in the broken puzzle.

Sight curls up, its claws withdrawn.

And separateness grows blurred,

like a sunken hull, absolved

at last from destinations —

those bright toys, dangling forever

out of reach, to waken

the joyful avarice of a baby’s smile.

And the infinite — revealed slowly

like the landscape on a fan —

promises the refuge

of some greater question, its summit

glimmering intermittently with hope.

TWILIGHTSoftly, our renegade fragments

fit back in the broken puzzle.

Sight curls up, its claws withdrawn.

And separateness grows blurred,

like a sunken hull, absolved

at last from destinations —

those bright toys, dangling forever

out of reach, to waken

the joyful avarice of a baby’s smile.

And the infinite — revealed slowly

like the landscape on a fan —

promises the refuge

of some greater question, its summit

glimmering intermittently with hope.

5

TWILIGHTSoftly, our renegade fragments

fit back in the broken puzzle.

Sight curls up, its claws withdrawn.

And separateness grows blurred,

like a sunken hull, absolved

at last from destinations —

those bright toys, dangling forever

out of reach, to waken

the joyful avarice of a baby’s smile.

And the infinite — revealed slowly

like the landscape on a fan —

promises the refuge

of some greater question, its summit

glimmering intermittently with hope.

5

6

7

8

9

10

SLEEP The fear that hides in the corners

of the day, the winged night seizes in its claws.

Helpless victim, he shall be torn

to pieces — in a world that can be seen,

but can’t be touched. On a river

that threads its ribbons through us,

connecting the severed regions of time,

the eye drifts like a luminescent fish.

Inner darkness, attractive sister of death,

pleasurably, against your will, your secrets uncoil.

Oblivion, your master, pins you down.

Softly from your fingers fall

a torrent of heretical jewels,

imperishable as a child’s anger.

SLEEPThe fear that hides in the corners

of the day, the winged night seizes in its claws.

Helpless victim, he shall be torn

to pieces — in a world that can be seen,

but can’t be touched. On a river

that threads its ribbons through us,

connecting the severed regions of time,

the eye drifts like a luminescent fish.

Inner darkness, attractive sister of death,

pleasurably, against your will, your secrets uncoil.

Oblivion, your master, pins you down.

Softly from your fingers fall

a torrent of heretical jewels,

imperishable as a child’s anger.

10

SLEEPThe fear that hides in the corners

of the day, the winged night seizes in its claws.

Helpless victim, he shall be torn

to pieces — in a world that can be seen,

but can’t be touched. On a river

that threads its ribbons through us,

connecting the severed regions of time,

the eye drifts like a luminescent fish.

Inner darkness, attractive sister of death,

pleasurably, against your will, your secrets uncoil.

Oblivion, your master, pins you down.

Softly from your fingers fall

a torrent of heretical jewels,

imperishable as a child’s anger.

10

11 12

13

14

15 16

17

18

19

20

Time pauses before the web

your seanced fingers spin,

glistening and so delicately attached

to anything solid, it consoles like perfume

or a half-remembered kiss or smoke,

when its white silk pools in the hearth,

unwilling to renounce the tainted pleasure

of a sacrifice whose child is radiance.

Never has the geometry

of opposites slipped so pensively

from now to now. This grieved mirage

you coax from twilight

descends like the hesitant pilgrimage

downward of a leaf.

FOR CHOP IN

Time pauses before the web

your seanced fingers spin,

glistening and so delicately attached

to anything solid, it consoles like perfume

or a half-remembered kiss or smoke,

when its white silk pools in the hearth,

unwilling to renounce the tainted pleasure

of a sacrifice whose child is radiance.

Never has the geometry

of opposites slipped so pensively

from now to now. This grieved mirage

you coax from twilight

descends like the hesitant pilgrimage

downward of a leaf.

FOR CHOPIN

20

Time pauses before the web

your seanced fingers spin,

glistening and so delicately attached

to anything solid, it consoles like perfume

or a half-remembered kiss or smoke,

when its white silk pools in the hearth,

unwilling to renounce the tainted pleasure

of a sacrifice whose child is radiance.

Never has the geometry

of opposites slipped so pensively

from now to now. This grieved mirage

you coax from twilight

descends like the hesitant pilgrimage

downward of a leaf.

FOR CHOPIN

20

21

22

23

The danger you struggle to dispel

holds against the gales of waking

like a root that twists its mouth

down through the sadness

of all that’s ever been and passed away.

Only an orphaned touch can comfort

your cry, thrashing in terror against the walls

of a darkness no one else can enter.

Your words reach out, blindly, stumbling,

trying to join hands. Is it regret,

whose petals I watch now

float across your gaze?

— or rebellion, breathing faintly

on the embers of a dying star?

A DREAMER

The danger you struggle to dispel

holds against the gales of waking

like a root that twists its mouth

down through the sadness

of all that’s ever been and passed away.

Only an orphaned touch can comfort

your cry, thrashing in terror against the walls

of a darkness no one else can enter.

Your words reach out, blindly, stumbling,

trying to join hands. Is it regret,

whose petals I watch now

float across your gaze?

— or rebellion, breathing faintly

on the embers of a dying star?

A DREAMER

23

The danger you struggle to dispel

holds against the gales of waking

like a root that twists its mouth

down through the sadness

of all that’s ever been and passed away.

Only an orphaned touch can comfort

your cry, thrashing in terror against the walls

of a darkness no one else can enter.

Your words reach out, blindly, stumbling,

trying to join hands. Is it regret,

whose petals I watch now

float across your gaze?

— or rebellion, breathing faintly

on the embers of a dying star?

A DREAMER

23

24

25

26

27

Seeds of light spilled from the clouds,

your limbo soothes —

like a round stone

that says its prayer to our fingers.

Memories whisper, somewhere,

among the melted shadows; and night’s scent

usurps volition like a stain in cloth.

Nothing matters. At last.

The soul, spidering up the thread

of its indifference, pauses, startled

by the plunge inward, towards emptiness,

where what seemed real

dissolves, and time, the nomad,

forgets his ancient paths through silence.

SUMMER RA IN

Seeds of light spilled from the clouds,

your limbo soothes —

like a round stone

that says its prayer to our fingers.

Memories whisper, somewhere,

among the melted shadows; and night’s scent

usurps volition like a stain in cloth.

Nothing matters. At last.

The soul, spidering up the thread

of its indifference, pauses, startled

by the plunge inward, towards emptiness,

where what seemed real

dissolves, and time, the nomad,

forgets his ancient paths through silence.

SUMMER RAIN

27

Seeds of light spilled from the clouds,

your limbo soothes —

like a round stone

that says its prayer to our fingers.

Memories whisper, somewhere,

among the melted shadows; and night’s scent

usurps volition like a stain in cloth.

Nothing matters. At last.

The soul, spidering up the thread

of its indifference, pauses, startled

by the plunge inward, towards emptiness,

where what seemed real

dissolves, and time, the nomad,

forgets his ancient paths through silence.

SUMMER RAIN

27

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31

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33

A circle opens its liquid mouth

beneath a fish who leaps to safety,

elsewhere in the silver pond of sleep.

Nearby, a taloned voice, cries out a warning.

What danger do you announce,

frail priestess, plunging through nights foliage

in flight from the transparency of God.

And I, why have I come again, to wander

through this premonition, leaving

my footprints scrawled in the sand

like a prayer for forgiveness, said over and over.

Until dawn spreads her wings,

disdainfully, above the wounded horizon —

where shadows, returning from exile, cringe in fear.

DREAMSCAPE

A circle opens its liquid mouth

beneath a fish who leaps to safety,

elsewhere in the silver pond of sleep.

Nearby, a taloned voice, cries out a warning.

What danger do you announce,

frail priestess, plunging through nights foliage

in flight from the transparency of God.

And I, why have I come again, to wander

through this premonition, leaving

my footprints scrawled in the sand

like a prayer for forgiveness, said over and over.

Until dawn spreads her wings,

disdainfully, above the wounded horizon —

where shadows, returning from exile, cringe in fear.

DREAMSCAPE

33

A circle opens its liquid mouth

beneath a fish who leaps to safety,

elsewhere in the silver pond of sleep.

Nearby, a taloned voice, cries out a warning.

What danger do you announce,

frail priestess, plunging through nights foliage

in flight from the transparency of God.

And I, why have I come again, to wander

through this premonition, leaving

my footprints scrawled in the sand

like a prayer for forgiveness, said over and over.

Until dawn spreads her wings,

disdainfully, above the wounded horizon —

where shadows, returning from exile, cringe in fear.

DREAMSCAPE

33

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35

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37

38

39

Poisoned at dawn by the slow blue light,

like some minute form of life

on the surface of a pond, the stars

sink into the depths.

At dusk, they return —

like the return of a forgotten sadness.

What sun in us went down and left us open

to lost time — glistening

in its net of constellations,

when day’s flow cools to ash,

and distances, too vast to comprehend,

draw slowly closer, like a procession

of black-shawled women, singing

their ancient, soothing canticles to death.

THE STARS

Poisoned at dawn by the slow blue light,

like some minute form of life

on the surface of a pond, the stars

sink into the depths.

At dusk, they return —

like the return of a forgotten sadness.

What sun in us went down and left us open

to lost time — glistening

in its net of constellations,

when day’s flow cools to ash,

and distances, too vast to comprehend,

draw slowly closer, like a procession

of black-shawled women, singing

their ancient, soothing canticles to death.

THE STARS

39

Poisoned at dawn by the slow blue light,

like some minute form of life

on the surface of a pond, the stars

sink into the depths.

At dusk, they return —

like the return of a forgotten sadness.

What sun in us went down and left us open

to lost time — glistening

in its net of constellations,

when day’s flow cools to ash,

and distances, too vast to comprehend,

draw slowly closer, like a procession

of black-shawled women, singing

their ancient, soothing canticles to death.

THE STARS

39

40

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42

43

With each touch, our origin

binds us ever more tightly. Like moths,

we enter radiance — drunk

with the pleasure of spiraling

towards extinction. And Infancy,

not yet severed from the zodiac,

wells up in us, engulfing

our disheartened spirits in a surge

of affirmation. Closer. Come, closer.

Gather this dream’s roots carefully,

into the darkness,

where it can strengthen — uplifted

by the secret need of all that is

to flower. To flower. Again, to flower.

PHYS ICAL LOVE

With each touch, our origin

binds us ever more tightly. Like moths,

we enter radiance — drunk

with the pleasure of spiraling

towards extinction. And Infancy,

not yet severed from the zodiac,

wells up in us, engulfing

our disheartened spirits in a surge

of affirmation. Closer. Come, closer.

Gather this dream’s roots carefully,

into the darkness,

where it can strengthen — uplifted

by the secret need of all that is

to flower. To flower. Again, to flower.

PHYSICAL LOVE

43

With each touch, our origin

binds us ever more tightly. Like moths,

we enter radiance — drunk

with the pleasure of spiraling

towards extinction. And Infancy,

not yet severed from the zodiac,

wells up in us, engulfing

our disheartened spirits in a surge

of affirmation. Closer. Come, closer.

Gather this dream’s roots carefully,

into the darkness,

where it can strengthen — uplifted

by the secret need of all that is

to flower. To flower. Again, to flower.

PHYSICAL LOVE

43

44

I. THE MOON

1. Moon Over Time

2. Marble Steps

3. Angel of Evil Tidings

4. Fleeing

II. TWILIGHT

5. Twilight

6. Renegade Fragments 1

7. Renegade Fragments 2

8. The Ship

9. Summit

III. SLEEP

10. The Dreamer (Man)

11. Obscene Bird of Night 1

12. Obscene Bird of Night 2

13. Obscene Bird of Night 3

14. Severed Regions of Time

15. The Elusive Eye 1

16. The Elusive Eye 2

17. The Elusive Eye 3

18. Inner Darkness

19. The Dreamer (Woman)

IV. FOR CHOPIN

20. Radiance 1

21. Radiance 2

22. Radiance 3

INDEX V. A DREAMER

23. Gales

24. The Dream

25. Orphaned Touch

26. Petals

VI. SUMMER RAIN

27. Clouds

28. Seeds Of Light

29. Summer Rain

30. Tree Dissolving

31. The Egret

32. Time

VII. DREAMSCAPE

33. Transparent God

34. The Wanderer

35. Exiled Shadows

36. Whispered Prayers 1

37. Whispered Prayers 2

38. Luna Antigua

VIII. THE STARS

39. The Pond

40. The Stars

41. Forgotten Sadness

42. Constellation

IX. PHYSICAL LOVE

43. Spiraling

44. Flowers

ISBN: 978-0-615-58708-0

Book Design: Madelyn Owens

Art Direction: Jacqueline Miro

Printer: Oddi Printing Corporation 842 Carroll Street Brooklyn, New York,11215

Published By Luna Press, 2012

ISBN: 978-0-615-58708-0