Poetry

by Mary Padilla 

There was an egret by the pond today.

Violets were appearing now on the verges of the wood.

It flew off to the shallows a bit further along the bank

when I came to sit on the cliff at the overlook.

Puffs of flowers in the trees were casting patchy shadows,

but there were no leaves yet.

It stood by the bank, utterly still.

Spring was still spare,

deceptively simple,

re-contextualizing.

A little later it had moved further along

somehow without ever moving,

utterly calm

but alert,

poised,

hunting.

Then it was further yet –

but still immobile,

coming from a deep place.

Why do flowers come back

when people don’t?

 Since coming to the LP2 several years ago, Mary has been trying new things, like applying the economy of the poetic form to expressing what can be more felt than understood.

 

by Mary Padilla

A moment in time
and space
–  frozen  –
as in Zoom,
suspended.
–  Leave and Return  –
They have to let you in.
You are in the Waiting Room.
What is on the other side
of that door?
Doors are virtual these days,
and apocryphal.   

But the link is still there for 30 days.
There is no end time.
What does Time mean now?
It should be what keeps everything
from happening at once.
But what about
the parallel universes
we inhabit,
where we click
from one reality
to the next
and back again –
or not.

Everything happens
at once there,
except that there is
no single there.
but rather,
three-ringed circuses,
the net of Indra,
the many-stringed
multiverse. 

And where are we in all this?
Are we in this?
If outside, where?
Given a place to stand,
could we move it?
What if there is
no place to stand?
And what would it mean
to move? 

If nothing is fixed,
what then is our perspective?
That of the omniscent narrator?
Of the fish eye immersed
in a medium it can’t fathom?
And of what significance this?
If we can sense only
what we are primed to experience,
then we cannot perceive
what we do not expect. 

Sensations are feelings.
We will not feel
what we cannot know.
Oblivious to the rest,
we each live now
in a world
of our own creation,
socially distant
in a fundamental way,
and alone.
What would it mean
to connect?

Since coming to the LP2 several years ago, Mary has been trying new things, like applying the economy of the poetic form to expressing what can be more felt than understood.

 

 

by Mary Padilla

A constraint can be freeing
But this approach does
Cause you to
Disregard what might be
Equally appropriate in
Favor of something that’s
Good technically, not
How you would necessarily
Imagine the choice,
Just privileging this
Kind of technique,
Letting the form dictate the
Meaning, allowing for
No chance to
Override the
Presentation, however
Qualified the
Result,
So that
The
Ultimate
Version
Won’t
Xemplify
Your
Zenographic limitations.

Since coming to the LP2 several years ago, Mary has been trying new things, like applying the economy of the poetic form to expressing what can be more felt than understood.

 

by Mary Padilla 

xxxIs that what it is, then?
xxxSomething that puts in motion
xxxa sort of cascade?  Personal?
Write it down
before it slips away.
xxxSuch things don’t usually
xxxneed setting up.
xxxThey come into being
xxxby themselves.  Impersonal.
Maybe the pieces aren’t ready
to be locked into place yet.
xxxTo need to do this thing,
xxxbut not necessarily
xxxbecause it’s likely to succeed,
It’s an exchange with the part that
observes, integrates, and only manifests
when the synthesis is complete,
xxxto wake up with it in mind,
xxxand live with it always before you,
xxxas a sort of waking dream –
like the cuckoo in the clock
that makes its presence known
only intermittently – rarely –
then quickly disappears again.
xxxwhen the fit is on, you must do it.
xxxAnd so you discharge it, this necessity,
It won’t be coaxed out again
until it has something else to say,
and that fully formulated.
xxxdeliver it in the doing.
xxxOr don’t, but then it will persist.
This sort of thing doesn’t – can’t – happen
on demand, under contract, or by a deadline.
xxxNot exactly taken over,
xxxhaunted, preoccupied, obsessed
xxxyou simply must pursue it,
xxxif you are possessed by it,
xxxor it just might destroy you.
It just bubbles up
when it’s ready
and can no longer be contained.
xxxNot its agent,
xxxbut rather reduced to it.
All that can be done is
to give it the time it needs,
xxxas everything else is stripped away,
xxxsuperfluous to what it in essence is,
xxxthis thing that can exist only through you.
and then record the result
xxxWhat matters is the essential need
xxxfor this inessential thing,
xxxmeaningful perhaps only to you,
xxxto be,
when it’s ready
xxxand to continue being,
to be delivered.
xxxeven after you no longer are.  

 Since coming to the LP2 several years ago, Mary has been trying new things, like applying the economy of the poetic form to expressing what can be more felt than understood.