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11/26/2014

Isaiah SingsĀ 

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Picture
Photograph by Reka Jellema. Untitled. Copyright November 26, 2014

Isaiah Sings

Father, here, I lay these at your stone

I plucked that purple beech of every leaf,
A yield of aubergine to cull and shuck
And sew into a royal robe:
We tucked you in.

And now I make my peace
With your patch of green
Now I lay me down, the prayer begins
And if I die before I wake? O mercy
May we pass unscathed
Before you any more souls take.

Father, from that old beech
I brought for you a rich
Autumnal plunder
Or would you favor yellowed maples?
For here they come, gentle from these trees
To circle the grave yard
To quilt its lawn

Your boy, the one you lost, sleeps on
Though the scripture promised
He will run again
He will be young and strong
Upon a limb of pine an eagle
Looks down. I kneel
Beside your bones,
I tell my little one,
Isaiah sings us home.

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11/21/2014

Winter Walk

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Picture
Photograph by Reka Jellema. Copyright November 21, 2014. Untitled.
November chilled
loneliness
into icicles
before that winter
walk with hulking
dog and under
the cold clarity
of star no one
could have told you
falling snow was noise
for the eyes, paper white
scissored into flakes
you cannot blink
enough to blind
and in the streetlight
slanting the assault
of lake effect wind
lashing your lashes
and your skin
the cold could
hold the buzzcock
of your brain
at bay, lobotomize
the gray haze
of pharmaceuticals
If you walked
with her you’d follow
tire treads, stop
and sniff leaves
buried under drifts
pretend to balance
on a beam, an
erstwhile gymnast
shivering

By Reka Jellema
Copyright Reka Jellema
November 21, 2014


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11/20/2014

Find Him

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Picture
Photograph by Reka Jellema. Copyright November 20, 2014. Untitled

Find Him

Find him
on the wide church lawns
in mid-pantomime, unshoed
unshaven a marionette in monolog
fingers wide and splayed
as wheel spoke

Find him
by the bowl of steaming soup
the simplicity of potatoes 
cubed and bubbling in milk, 
the one with wilderness eyes
and desert soles
he sees and knows 

Find him
in the creases of her hands
where some still say
they see a path


By Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
Copyright Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
November 20, 2014

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11/5/2014

The Others

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PicturePhoto Art by Reka Jellema. November 5, 2014. Untitled.

the others
slipped into themselves
by moonlight
slipped  out of sight
and through
our neighbour`s pasture
where a rope
stretched from one oak
to another
cloaked
in billowed bed sheets
loosed to the October night
cotton shirtsleeves
pale and cold
in almost dark
birds aloof
livening the clothesline
little boys and girls
materialised
as the ones
they were alive
daisies radiating waves
of glowing white
stung by a day
in the sun
appeasing gods
who spaded
holes and grew them up
just to watch
them pass away
leaving her, a tree
devoid of leaves
empty arms cradling
the unfilled spaces
swing sets lilt
in breezes idle
there are rooms
she never enters
drawers of clothes
that just won`t open
lest the cloying
baby talcum rise
to sting her eyes
the others -
they have others
left behind
her eyes
spill reveries
that never can be
how neatly made
the bunk beds
the little boys and girls
go out to play
they sit in a place
at the back
of the throat
and keep
close company
with sorrow
the others
slip into a spell
life after life
one day
the world will open up
earth will meet sky
hand over hand
we shall shimmy
up rope,
watery hope
upon watery hope

Written by Reka Jellema & Kathryn Ross
Copyright Reka Jellema & Kathryn Ross
November 5, 2014

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11/1/2014

Azure

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PicturePhotography by Reka Jellema. Copyright November 1, 2014. Untitled.

Azure

Its azure secured, the sky
was a kite, sidling the horizon
so slightly, no doubt,
to steadier eyes
but I am apt to tread
in curlicue
among the upturned chairs
and folded parasols. I am apt
to turn within a turn,
to find inside myself 
an awkwardness, a poor excuse
for a two-step
blue within blue
to stroll along the rigid stand
of woods and shore 
where last my heart
was spied. The heron surfs 
my peripheral and streams,
a needle towing its thread unseen,
the long land and the azure of the sea
kiss and enfold
in suture

Written by Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
Copyright November 1, 2014

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11/1/2014

They Say

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PicturePhotography by Reka Jellema. Copyright November 1, 2014. Untitled.

They Say

The skirl of bagpipe
the fife of piccolo
anything to still
this prattle -- 
nursery rhymes, 
ditties, doo-dahs, loony tunes
twined, transposed and snarled

there is trouble in mind
her head on the railway
his esophagus grappled
with the belt loop in the closet
a bare light bulb one tug away
from the dark

They say the rats never left
the Piper has them safe, quiet
biding time
while punctual trains
and ritual neatness of streets
grow like Labelled clothes
like snaking moss on alabaster nudes

They say Humpty Dumpty never fell 
a modern Astaire,
lissome and el-
egant with piano hands
his wall con-
stant as a Shakespearean couplet --
townsfolk wiped yolk 
from the pages of storybooks, made mosaics 
from eggshells, grew quiet
at the songs of bright birds

A piccolo enough
to quiet trouble in mind
they say
air strained
through tiny architectures
Do re   mi     yes        no
Melody      skipping
The needles repeat

Do re  mi 
Piccolo

Written in collaboration with Brendan Bonsack
By Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
November 1, 2014

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