July 28, 2015
Dear Judas,
1.
I cannot believe in God
for all the ill his world produces;
for all the memory of your embattled figure.
aren’t we all the sons of man?
the daughters?
aren’t we all the saints of tomorrow?
yesterdays?
dear Judas,
I weep weep at thoughts of you.
2.
holy holy
I suppose I call out for you
(your tragic figure)
feet playing the edge of a precipice
knowing not whither to fall
and be damned
speak for me
(holy holy)
Adonoi for sought blessings
for finding your body to love
speak for me
holy holy – holy holy
dear Judas,
child, saint
you are venerated in my heart
I feel you
listening now for words
from your voice
I pray to you
seek you out in hymn –
which star are you?
speak for me,
our holy blessings and names
our holy actions and love
3.
dear Judas,
where can I find you?
I look in back alleys
search the graveyards
stop in cafes
along busy streets
and I cannot find you
the air is desiccated
sun burnt skin flakes
and peels
as I strive in the daylight
looking for you
in the faces of dirty children
with uncombed hair
I seek you out
among the poor
and tax collectors
among the rich
and forgotten
dear Judas,
I write to you now
to understand
not of your purported betrayal
or that last kiss
wherein you created
Christianity
to understand
the end
the dark night of your soul
I listen among the birds
sitting under trees
for your final declaration
the last act of a hanged man
misunderstood for two thousand years
dear Judas,
you are the first
martyred
forgotten
hanged from the devil’s tree
where no bird sang but wept
where stone and arrow
met your body and mind
your last walk holy
dear Judas,
holy Judas
martyred Judas
I pray for you
call out to you
(your tragic figure)
I weep weep at thoughts of you
dear Judas,
sing for me
holy holy
your soul scarred
and sacred
your body left and
forgotten
that strength of a thousand thousand men
the courage of many more
tracing a line round your heart
broken now
broken for all time
– Hoc Scripsi
February 26, 2012
A repost but I’ve been inspried to put this poem out there again today.
a poem redacted, preface – JB
startled by impact
cumulative
a hunger for youth
he was fifty
J had seemed much older
as though
absorbed and consumed
in the very intensity
of his memory.
a matter of life
and death.
his ambition propelled
a
striking photograph in Life magazine
it would be eleven years.
his amours
turmoil
consumption of alcohol
alchemized
to represent the agon
essential attributes
syntax
tone
diction
cadenzas on carefully
tuned strings
allusion
meter
primal manifestations
to be difficult, “obscure”
obscene.
a besetting consideration
narrative accounts
or
the world seen through inebriation
dreams
a disjointed film
shapes
presences
identities
sometimes in mid sentence
often presumption
singular
voice and vision
effeminate
intimated, elusive
wild,
unbearably beautiful.
– Hoc Scripsi
and what the hell – here is another on the same subject…
October 25th
October 25th
and we celebrate the birth
of John Berryman.
heavy with the burden
of his smashed skull
and dream songs.
his final entry a comment
on the Washington Avenue bridge
in Minneapolis Minnesota.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 