Comes Up to Face the Skies by Steve Gilmartin

COMES UP TO FACE THE SKIES

COMES UP TO FACE THE SKIES

© Steve Gilmartin 2013

Cover designed by Dawn Pendergast & printed by spoonfl ower.com

L R Llittle red leaves textile editions

www.littleredleaves.com

© Steve Gilmartin 2013

Cover designed by Dawn Pendergast & printed by spoonfl ower.com

L R Llittle red leaves textile editions

www.littleredleaves.com

Comes Up to

Face the SkiesSTEVE GILMARTIN

little red leaves textile series

Comes Up to

Face the SkiesSTEVE GILMARTIN

little red leaves textile series

� 1 �

� 1 �

�FURTHER IN SUMMER THAN THE BIRDS�

A battery of Birdsong

Bled between Grass and Moon

Handed a Mess and

a reclining Nation.

Uneasy thick Security;

The battle stops at one

state of Spinning Litany,

the last to say, I�m done.

The Fields, when August

flies Flaming from its seat,

lie bewitched by desire�s trust,

while bald men dig and sweat.

Moments spit and Slide by

Throwing off Bonds and Ends,

banked interstellar formaldehyde

from which none of Nature bends.


A battery of Birdsong

Bled between Grass and Moon

Handed a Mess and

a reclining Nation.

Uneasy thick Security;

The battle stops at one

state of Spinning Litany,

the last to say, I�m done.

The Fields, when August

flies Flaming from its seat,

lie bewitched by desire�s trust,

while bald men dig and sweat.

Moments spit and Slide by

Throwing off Bonds and Ends,

banked interstellar formaldehyde

from which none of Nature bends.

� 2 �

� 2 �


Summer�s spating under the Birds —Our gray defenses circle the Grass —Fired my set of rings into the People

A one circus Mess.

This Kindness is southern Ritual —So all my likes end Nodding

Thieves sing of word-stoppers, elastics —Watch them zip you into their kit —

She fills with language and rises —

Above the sequestered heat of August

Staked desire�s soul is Bleeding

So sorry for the zoo-like conditions —

This one�s jailed for Nodding —These for things placed on the Ground

So doth one treaty Endorse

The spatter of Nature�s jets —

� 3 �

� 3 �


Summer spattered everywhere —Over grieving democratic grasses —Fiery one-time People

A gift, dislodged Bolus.

Sugar Rituals you were saying —Such almanacs of Mercy

Tied up the song to unstop words —Timed to smear Courtesy —

The tongue fills her like Noon —When worship is still warm

The Bloodied half deserts

Its sorrowful commonwealth war.

This doubting night gives Thanks —To urchins who serve as Fur

The pagans have Association —

While light jets through Nature.

� 4 �

� 4 �

�I DWELL IN POSSIBILITY�

I�m at home in kite-flying altitudes —Not on the ground of Prose —A Fenced in kingdom and hell —Is Touring — one of those —

Poorly dressed Architectures —

Art, where ancestors shout

Edged in Heaven�s soft Pain

This beating Mocked, this rout —

Existence — of the arriving love —Social deformation — no Dice

I spring this small Hand weight

And dart into Paradise.

� 5 �

� 5 �


I own the best money lick

House built in the age of Prose —

Whiter than the empire of Windows —

Above the Circling fur —

the Cedar Archway —

Unencumbered by the Age

and one�s animal self

hung from the hook of heaven

the Beseecher — the Darling —

Turns Collared, House Detention

Another�s engine gleams

And to Paradise you�re summoned.

� 6 �

� 6 �


My House, it�s made of Bauxite

— darling, all Prose is —Window aluminum — Andre´ hats,

too high to make the Rounds.

Beauty becomes a duty

which forces pain to count;

That Dash, forever stopping,

a sign that Heaven�s Gambling.

The beloved Gasps Overturning —

must words arrange to marry?

These and not those,

bullcow, separate and tagged:

The off-Hand way I wait

for animals to bring Paradise.

� 7 �

� 7 �

�SAFE IN THEIR ALABASTER CHAMBERS�

Safe in their Alabaster room —

Unburdened by Morning —And unburdened by Labeling

Lie the Heralds of Hanging Offers —Sparring with Atlas — Dashed against Stone!

Jars — on Hallway mounds — Enormous emptying —Worlds visible for an hour —And Firmaments — wandering —Crowns — fallen — DO¯gen — surrendering —Nymph exoskeletons on Snow.

� 8 �

� 8 �


Safe in their Slots of Alabaster

flattened stores of Morning, of Midday,

freed Guild of Suspended Offers

Holes for the saved and the Inlaid.

This scenery House was great for Years,

worlds Weaving past End of show,

Crowns cascade off a Family

system Frozen in the Snow.

1 Slots of Alabaster� Alabaster Champagne

Alabaster Jars

� 9 �

� 9 �


Secured in the Carbonate of time —It�s a laugh how reading is like mourning —Or seeing your Own finger Mind

Forever mad and Friendly —A spare Atlas — a Dash of Stone.

Worlds Arch into the star Lake.

Listen, there�s motoring melody.

This White height�s a hireling.

Drop the Crown Victorias, the Dodge.

Each generation�s a slow-motion sneeze, punctuationless.

� 10 �

� 10 �

�SANG FROM THE HEART, SIRE�

Sang from the Heart, Sire,

My nose brought me here,

Hard for the Wise to unveil

The stitch that holds the Palace

Decomposed Fabric —

Designs of insect interiors —

Today swung from the sky

Its S-shaped armaments.

Dulled then it all sounds —

Held fast — stockinged —

Sight bounces off Satin —

Everyone blind to fur —

We died in Liturgy�s Stalls —

Chorale settings bright —

Souls all Undocumented

In the saltwater of Naming —

� 11 �

� 11 �


Sang from the Heart, Sir,

Tied by smoke from behind,

That Ton, you said, turned on its toe

Tuned animal decay.

Garden of bright-haired memory

Skills aged in Cinnamon —

This Regime is ending

With arms and Birds.

Dulled by Ballads —

Linked — out of stock —

Then the Fade to I know —

Naught but animal hair —

Stand in Liturgy�s puddle —

Numbers swollen with Blood —

Peace is a hole too wide to deny

Inhaling Names —

� 12 �

� 12 �


Blood of the People, Sir,

Touting all the picked pockets,

When the Weight of your trapped

One Bursts through the soil

Truth remembers Scarlet —

How Outrage turned to Tin —

Today is an Empire

Where weapons have Voices.

The Song dances Bluntly —

Nearly near — supplies end —Rights of the Dot to Fade —

Knowing I can�t suit you —

Stop the flow of Service —

War�s music in their Blood —

I�m weary of waterhole food

Of praising Names —

� 13 �

� 13 �

�THE SOUL SELECTS HER OWN SOCIETY�

The Soul digs through her mirrored collection,

wears but a sliver of what�s seen;

the godly Earn habitation

lastly learn proper mien!

Glass faults the scene, when a Carriage stops,

for my Torso and waist,

for my Standing; when a Ruler drops,

these ruts are erased.

I see: since they emerge as Fiery

protectors,

what wardens before Stone and cast iron

call Shelter.

� 14 �

� 14 �


The Spirit waltzes with its Upper half —Whose least dip causes Detour —

Your anger�s a godlike Box —Warring with nothing more —

Unknown — a treasure Wagon —halts to drag her to the Tower —Unknown — till pain lets a Leader

Find favor for an hour —

I dress for the uncounted — each

Waltzed before me alone —Deceived — pushed by Wax and Breath

Through Stone.

� 15 �

� 15 �


The Soul, interactive, joins

then closes up

the Divine Court —Says let�s be unspeakable!

Indifferent when a car stops

to pick it up,

When an Emperor stoops to suck

it does not stir.

I saw her peering out

from a train —Top-notch vigilance

looking for quarry.

Steve Gilmartin�s fiction and poetry have appeared

in a number of print and online publications,

including Café Irreal, eratio, Otoliths, Mad Hatters' Review, Eleven Eleven, Able Muse and BlazeVOX. In

2012 he participated in an artist-writer collabora-

tive project, Broadside Attractions / Vanquished Terrains (www.broadsideattractions.com), that exhibited at

Intersection for the Arts in San Francisco. Recent

projects include reworkings of a group of Northern

Californian Wintu tales and a mistranslation of

Cesar Vallejo�s Trilce.

This little red leaves textile edition was lovingly

sewn by Dawn Pendergast in Houston, TX.

Comes Up to Face the Skies by Steve Gilmartin

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