Beginnings of Poetry

Because the tangerine floor,
trap door, closed entrance.
Because of solitary rooms and a love of the hermetic.
Because of bullying.
Because it was never forced or encouraged.
Because of art school’s salient critique.
Because loud and garrulous.
Because the throes of images.
Book after book.
Because New Orleans, Dominican Republic, Horseshoe Bay.
Because early internet; insomnia.
Because the Free Times Café.
Because of momentary angels, accidental lightning.
Because of fallen matchsticks, cigarette ash and morning breath.
Orange-red afterglow.
Because of music’s cruel abandonment at concert’s end.
Because it is more elegant to wend desire through symbol.
Because language invents me: the pulse of throat, tickle of heart.
Because corrosion happens.
Avalanche, blackouts,
words in braille.
Because Pluto was demoted from planet.
Because the cosmic microwave background.
Because photons dance off my palms
past the fry pan.
Because eating a double chocolate scoop of the universe, whole.
Because I coalesce, then contradict.
Too small to fit inside the seasons.
Because the harbour turned me away.
Because of eyes dipped in silver, watching over the bedside table.
Because loss.
Because hearing.
Because essential to abrade surface.
Because tenacious near death, hovering above my body.
Because of surgery.
Night-blue buses.
Because the twist.

Copyright © Clara Blackwood 2013

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Arcana Reading this Friday at Origo Books

I recently sat down with Patrick Connors over a pint to discuss Arcana and my upcoming event at Origo Books this Friday, October 28th. Here is the interview:

http://newz4u.net/archives/21428

As mentioned in the article, I’ll be giving a talk on tarot, reading from Arcana and giving short tarot readings free to anyone who buys a copy of the chapbook. Below is the link with all the details.

http://www.origobooks.com/events.html#arcana

The Secret Handshake Gallery

It’s been a long while since my last poetry feature. Tonight I’m reading at an art, poetry and music event at the Secret Handshake Gallery: 189 Mutual Street (upstairs). 6 pm. I’m not familiar with the space, but I like the masonic-sounding gallery name.  In planning my reading I picked out a number of tarot poems including “The Hierophant” since I envisioned the inside of a masonic temple when writing it.

V. The Hierophant

He inhabits a secret

beyond the black and white

checkered floor,

between two grey pillars.

 

Around him are the masks

of misrule, the faces

of benediction.

 

Lion, bull, man, eagle –

he knows them all.

 

Friend of the blue Venus,

this hushed speaker

halts the unprepared

with one hand held in symbol.

 

To the seeker

he grants two golden keys,

but will not tell

what they unlock.

 

Copyright © Clara Blackwood  2011