Chavisa Woods' Books

header photo

June, 2011

For Ochun


it begins with the opening of eyes

-----------------------

to see something is to be separate from it so we open our eyes to the world

a woman in a yellow dress

cradles an  infant of moss

 

as I critique myself the words are erased before me

 

many of the words that stay even are words of erasure

   -----------------------------------------

to look at a thing squarely is to begin to     erase the periphery

 

of what contains                       it

----------------

----------------

art is an act of isolation

----------------

----------------

of isolating an object

 

 

But. That. Is.

 

so pompous

 

all communication is a continuous act of isolation

 

 

you ask me simple questions

            “where did we make it wrong?”

 

            to explain myself in a manner that makes life livable            

 

            you hand me banal statements like an urn to compose my loss

                                                                        “I don’t know what happened… this is life

what do you want?”      these are the common words you say and yet they look so unbelievable written down.

 

(when)

I need to explain clearly what about life is so impossible to live:

 

            but what is so impossible to live is most

                        often the ability to explain

 

-----------------    

         ----------------------------

 

and, I see again, I was wrong, as usual

 

            it begins with the opening of eyes

 

 

an infant of moss cradles a woman

 

that is where I am. that is right.

            to look is to be separate

 

but it does not begin with the opening of eyes

 

no, but

          torn out from another

 

it begins with

 

            a bawling, a wretched yelp

 

and then the opening of eyes

 

that look to what         (has torn us)

 

these last years

I must say,

I have lived in you looking out through your eyes

 

is most impossible

            the insistence of life, like

 

lifelike- the replica

of the woman looking on without affection

 

a newborn’s cry         always sounds absurd, is difficult to replicate, but easily recognized

 

as the most banal, like “the insistence of life”like

 

as         inevitably        the thing that it is

 

            most of the words spoken daily by people are simple ones

 

                                    clear ones

 

                                                small ones,                               common ones

 

and I dare say,                        honest

 

-------------

-------------

 

it begins with

 

            a bawling, a wretched yelp

 

but not true

                        like that first absurdity

 

            ( insistence of life                    as        inevitably        the thing that it is)

 truth is very different than honesty

 

---------

----------

 

an infant of moss devours a yellow woman

            -------------      -----------

                        ------------

 

honesty can be spoken

 

the truth is unspeakable

 

-

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

-

Go Back