Two Poems

Martine Bellen

FOUNDATION MANDALA

—for Claire

Of sapphire. Systematically construed

off a square; offering

deities a balcony on which to dance

How does one illuminate the atmosphere?

Sheath of candles

Irrigate the four winds

Ganesha round back repairs walls

while the girl maps elements of philosophy

and posthumously eavesdrops on grandmother

whose files, over six feet thick,

contain wisdom applicable to Vermeer, birds, fabula,

penny arcades and the chance encounter

of a sirocco and softened laughter.

The girl disguising herself as an old spider

in a 13th century limnal magic lantern

exacts impulses from light and pearls of moisture

which accumulate on complex webbing

as Picasso eats cats,

woos & plays the flute.

This boundless structure binding structure,

city of flesh and bones

Hear white wheat

where mind drops, a vibrant precipice

Indra inspects the floors of the building,

consults diagrams drawn in mineral on brocade,

tests supports, balance, flexibility.

Holiness as a star,

octagon, circle, jewel

Traditionally sand-painters applied this city

of shadow, channels, cul-de-sacs,

moving inward toward its heart

Trappings of misknowledge in Grandma’s cabinets

the girl uses to reconstruct conditions of weather,

directional colors, the need of her being in her need

to escape, she pirouettes atop the head of a pin,

petals of tears and pomegranate minaret. My lost ballerina

sloshes ring-side the spectral world held in place by neural wind

where everyone has two names,

lives according to the outer universe or

train’s harmonic connection to its crossing.

Drywall, five transparent layers

of Panisks, Dakini, Guardian Dragons

Consecreation of this mandala eliminates reversals,

a frameless forest from throat to heart,

in ornamental buildings with indelible arms

to carry and heal when embraced.

Tinkling bells announce transition of natural phenomena

NOCTURNE

The Swan sails a milky tide spread evenly across Silver River

&Pierrette angry with the moon and universe of flute, viola, harp

Harmonizing our corrupt selves with the utterly impassable

Unable to suffer

Without leitmotiv

Not to denote absence but to describe in negative terms to capture the fades and sequences

The equation of peering at the sky upside-down, at Cassiopeia, a sequin,

Butterfly’s dream, Andromeda

Philosophical toys contenting emblematic identity

Below her waist: blue coral

Cloud’s breath root-coiled to earth

How matter’s faithless

Miscellaneity under a simmering cinder moon

Omen of bones, ignoble, central moods

Crinkum-crankum frogs congesting trees

Shaded by a turbid glow

Bee’s familiarities

With the mild moon

Key to the bright world

Communal & personal aspects of integrating with sound as landscape

(converted luminosity)

She sleeps in black and white woods,

Only when awake do colors saturate

Habitats of resonance

Glass splashed with spells, decanto

Ghouls, fouler wind, and swollen waves

   A passing moon, passion moon

The sword which lies ready for battle in the open heart, shiny moon

   (A hidden moon scuds behind the broken cloud)

Or is the Divine Window—apprehension of our invisible body

Tucked away in the prose closet

Neck-ruffles of stars and the dones d’aigo

Sheltered in underground water-falled halls, weaving water

To gowns, the living mutable spirit of each fountain:

   The Tender Fount, Course Spring,

Spring of Deceit, Glassy Fountain, The Dried Up Spring

(reduce amount of blood in body, reduce desire)

Innermost subtle drops

Suffusing throat, heart

Gave speech to bird and wind

That dance for an audience of one; still swirls

Of bejeweled tulle pirouette in echoing applause,

Like the clinks of cordial glasses

Inspiriting the dark alone

She is an idiot, walks through the burden forgetting

     What disappeared. Her

     World fell away. A wind, hitherto unknown, physically unanimous,

All the Devils of Hell cannot pluck a feather from one poor wren.