Ferlinghetti’s Interruption & Burning Prayers

“she brought me coffee in the rain   and later   in pink pajamas and slip on slippers   she entered heaven   where i was   painting the doors white   keep painting   she rattled   ruffling her papers   then began reading ferlinghetti’s    i am waiting    i turned down the volume of the livestream on death and dying at the end of the world”—Mimi German

Miriam’s Well

By Mimi German

PORTLAND Oregon—(Weekly Hubris)—May 1 2021—

Ferlinghetti’s Interruption

she brought me coffee in the rain   and later   in pink pajamas and slip on slippers   she entered heaven   where i was   painting the doors white   keep painting   she rattled   ruffling her papers   then began reading ferlinghetti’s    i am waiting    i turned down the volume of the livestream on death and dying at the end of the world   to hear   between the silence   the words   for anarchy   and   rebirth of wonder   i shifted my position on earth   bending my weight above my knees   to witness this pink bird in flight in heaven’s towering teepee   the drift of this long careless rapture   from aphrodite to the gentle spatter of spring rain entering this open vestibule   unpremeditated art   making all things clear  and then my tears like petals fell upon the fleeting lovers and  the line and embrace   indelible   perpetually and forever

Burning Prayers

(from Erotica and Longing During the Plague)

in the end   time is the great devourer   memories thread then fall in feathers of red and mausoleum   love cannot stand the thinning of spindled threads  still i image you into being   your bolts and screws   rings of your tree   in the languorous root of morning’s stretch   i originate you to the cob of caramelized paper   until the late train whistle blows   three blaring horns   short   long   then short   pollinating stars pull themselves across the palm of  darkness   how i wanted   you   to want   to devour   me   but  i cannot give you gorgeous   and my knees are dirty from crawling the ground   burning prayers i find crumpled and tossed   left behind from the dead   i die a little more with each transiting shadow   i bed down with the equity of sorrow   waking to feathers   turned to ash