regicide

It's time for today's 30/30 Tupelo Press Poem of the day, inspired by the NY Times word of the day, which today, is really awesome. Today's word is regicide--the killing of a king--which is just ripe with figurative goodness.

Because I love the series so much, I will look again to the Dusie Tuesday poem, which today is a beautiful Translation today of Erin Moure by Chus Pato. I'm looking to this poem mostly for form/flow inspiration. It's simply riveting. I mean, it has mermaids in it. Rock.

I'm doing a pretty pathetic job of raising money for Tupelo press, so please, if you are enjoying these poems at all, please donate $5, $10, anything you can. Remember to put my name in the comments section. We need to support platforms like Tupelo Press that encourage writers to write and think and grow and question.

regicide

the woodgrain

surrenders

to a body

or claims it

we imagine

it might have happened in a forest

or in a castle

(everyone likes to imagine themselves in a castle)

or on the smallest cellular level 

of their collective

brains

where to go

after killing a king

or a mother

or a part of yourself that reins you in

there will be new kings and mothers

inside of you, there is an infinite number

of ways to go

to launch like blossoming

to catapult like music

like a sphere

and it hurts to love that killing

like it hurts to watch 

a mother almost die

and sort of die

and partially die 

and then come back with infinite patterns

all of them alive     vibrating      astonishingly possible

it hurts to love that killing

but you love it nonetheless

and you do it over and over again

and the music

and the infinity you own

the hard and soft of it

the bitter and sweet of it

the circular woodgrain of it

the bloody cavity of it

will eventually release you