Donald Ryburn-----vitas Donald Ryburn is the editor of 4*9*1-----Imagination
(www.fournineone.com). He is a neo-naïve visionary artist/photographer. He is
co-author (with Aubrey) of the book Poetry Pathology. His poetry and photography
have appeared in hundreds of print journals, anthologies, and on-line zines,
including Black Moon, 4*9*1, Poetry Motel,
Pacific Coast Journal, Bitter Oleander, Onionhead, Art/Mag, Möbius (print,) Poetry Superhighway,
Poetry Tonight, Room Without
Walls, India Journal, Archeflamboeth, Entropic, Grassroots Poetry,
Electric Acorn, Wired Art For Wired Hearts, Bluff Magazine, /noserialmice,
Some Words, Jitter-bug's Nest, Poetry Down-Under, The Poetry Kit, Poetry Life & Times (interview),
Creative Voice, Vistula, The Miserere Review, Unlikely Stories, Lynx Poetry -Bath, England,
Marmsweb, Poetry! Yes! Now!, 7th-Circle, (on-line).
Her blood became white tears.
Two mouths, the hands of astonishment.
She was fire where there was none.
She was children at play
With the dolls of death.
The blue darkness of birds
Who could not choose their color.
Her voice, the rope of democracy.
Black, lighted hills sang the sadness of leopards.
Metal hinges collided with absence.
Life became an unended moment,
The moment she waved
From the steps of a bus, gone east.
Above this land,
A large bird cried.
Blonde hair in mechanical swing
Rosaries and wine
Once magic eyes now dull
Mothers' love a dark shape
From unknown crushed desire
Simple white garments
Fallen ribbons and lace
White poppies, empathy and a gray world
Distorted through stained glass
Winter, another and another
Gulf tides, imaged language
A curl of gold, tiny coffin
Putrid oranges, tangerines
Snow geese disgust with mathematics
Only bones. Winter, another and another
Useless human tears hidden
In untouchable stones,
In fires loosened
From shadows of pumas.
She said, "There is an infinite hunger on the earth."
While she pointed with icy finger
At daisies, at gloved hands
During the sleep of September.
Her hands had once cultivated golden flowers,
Had been the comrades of cormorants.
Now they visit other worlds,
Grow diamonds in cloudless skies,
Gracefully lead us away
From the seeds of death.
This place speaks only absence.
Candles cannot ring
With their temporary shadows
The empty bells of a Tower.
These shadows do not hunger
For your dark amber eyes.
The shadow's blackened tongues
Could only betray you.
Only this huddled framework
Of stolen bones knows you.
Knows your distant voice
That now as if a fog
Settles into an endless night.
So we have encountered
The remains of horizons.
What was unknown became stone,
Would not yield to light
From foreign suns.
The death of black-tongued,
"Darling," you spoke,
At the dark edges of an abyss,
Remarking at their beauty.
You said, "Do not be afraid."
"Come, join hands
In this quickened
Flight of Destiny."
"thou mettest with things dying;
And I convinced you
That slaying dead goats,
Mount Meru exposed her tender thighs
Things born anew:
Where I belong,
This unknown fire that covers us
Dispersed shadows from your beauty.
Became twin dolphins of desire
In an endless black ocean.
We have walked the same wet shorelines.
Been devoured by the same young lizards.
Our numbers became one number.
Confused mortals attempted the speech
Of an almost absent God.
But could not destroy the strange.
Could not suspend the sacred.
(the sun's melody, pale rays of light, musical, melancholy, beautiful....)
You are as mother-of-pearl,
First silver, grey and gold,
Suddenly sweet pale blue.
You quietly took my tears to your fingertips,
Placed them into the corners
Of your dark amber eyes.
You said our tears came from the same ocean.
A rising moon searched for us.
Sent her melancholy mermaids
To our separate shores,
Where the scorpion night
Became jealous of the mastery
Of love's promised miracle,
Of her final mysteries revealed.
Tonight we will gamble
At guessing the secrets we hold.
Tonight we shall sing mantras
To a new moon passing the face of Neptune
There we shall begin a revolution
We carry twin wounds
Across a single heart.
The same white light
Shields us as pure stones
In these villages of absence.
This night will end.
Your voice will emerge
From sickening fog.
Our bodies will arch
Rapid, blinded and whole.
This night will become jealous
Of the white road of sleep we share.
A sleep where nothing can ever end.