Prose Poem-Cavernous

You name several things, from a list that says—“Over”. Quietly, slowly, each one pulled from the clingy green moss culled from a black mirrored lagoon. We talk on the phone, you-boarding a plane, me- driving 72mph southeast across the desert.  Two time-zones between us.   Functionally connected, we map a soundweb of present tenses.  Strangers mingle all around-  you apologize.  To whom, no one knows. Fiber optics, now buried beneath sand and shale, split your words down a ravine. All the way to Yuma.  Overture in Aorta minor.  “But there is more”, you say, forgetting the package you just detonated. You want to explain more- later.  Yes, I acquiesce.  Driving numb through a blond cholla forest, ocotillo waving on the outer rim. A blue border of mountains protecting me from anything bad ahead, friends bantering  in the backseat.  Space permeates.  But here in the desert, I get more.  And So I take it.  All of it. Down.  Deep as my last breath.  Down to the bottom of the cavern.  And back.  Space surrounds.  Mine is succulent, yours stratospheric.



From: Experiments in Prose.

Poem by Tara Linda.  Copyright 2010.

Reckless Creativity ~ Quotes by Dean Young

Reckless Creativity. Inspiring quotes~ Dean Young

I’m loving Dean Young‘s book~

“The Art of Recklessness:  Poetry as Assertive Force and Contradiction.”  2010. Graywolf Press.

Some quotes…

“Poetry mitigates just as fire does, by witnessing its own necessary recklessness and senses of the sacred, its ability to combust the ancillary, to grow and make everything itself…with ash, with death.”  Dean Young.

“Our poems are what the gods couldn’t make without going through us.”  Dean Young.

“To cultivate fire is to perpetually gather fuel, sometimes to reconceive what is fuel. While poetry perpetually examines its own means, it must also move outside itself else it burn pale, offer only a redundant twilight on a cloudy day…” Dean Young.

I’m loving his words now…
How he so radically reminds us that we should take serious risk with our art, (Or what’s the point!?), be reckless in all the ways we serve the Muses, burn ourselves up in this great re-creative process, over and over.

This all hits the spot today;  I’m a little burnt out on the minstrel’s trail but must keep going, & the clouds are hovering low today…

Seemingly Was Never So

In the movie “code 46” a man loves a free-spirited girl, the innocent criminal
he has come to arrest. The one who teaches him to feel in the span of

a 10-hour day. He cannot help himself. This pixie is unlikely. But her Spirit overrides. When She sees him, She see’s what the others can’t [The Dream] and proceeds to verify.

In the movie “Code 46” a man falls in love with  a free-spirited girl, the innocent criminal he has come to arrest.  The one who teaches him to feel in the span of

a 10-hour day.  He cannot help himself.  This pixie is unlikely. But her Spirit overrides.  When She sees him, She see’s what the others can’t [The Dream] and proceeds to verify.

But their post bio-engineered society won’t have it.   As with so many things, enabling temporary cover in matters of state, by State,
There is inside; cool industrial, crowded neon.  Belonging with Certainty.
Tastefulness. A time- tested and even fate.   Sanitized Safety.
And there is outside; the multitudes struggling~ filth, poverty, constant cycles of  uncertainty.

Fear.  And it’s almost Inverse.

He chases beyond innocence and nonsense, until he finds sound & sane, but then
fatefully, looses her.

So off he goes, risks Reclassification to find her again, moves against the Order he is
paid and programmed to keep. But how he must pursue…
to feel alive – something unfelt in years,
Uphill and high speed against the genetically altered authors of morality,

Implanted sensors and satellites locate the subjects in violation of Code.  Locations are mapped.  A chase ensues.

He is the Bait by which they locate Her.    [THIS afterall, a man’s purpose in the Creation of Order & the End of Mystery]

And so first they torture her, erase her memory of him- which, of course, tortures him wildly beyond any edge of pain that has ever suspended him in Time.

Who was it that said “it is better to have lived only 5 minutes of true love in a lifetime
Than to live a lifetime with less…”
Writhing in the anguish of the Fear of Being Erased
from her great Heart’d Mind~  Ego trumps Empathy onstage.

And then they catch him.  Erase his memory of  this brightest lightest love
Her face, her voice, her tears,  yearning in words, her soft porcelain skin.

Fast forgotten and fast forward.

When he returns from the hospital, his wife is pleased.   Regardless of misadventures, he is safely returned.  And with the Removal, gone is the Deviant’s essence.  Slow motion return to a new marriage (Same woman).  [postcripted shadow inserted here;  the vision in satisfaction hues, portending the day a restlessness will override the Code;  an instant of taste- reminiscent but  unfathomable.]  Precious.   Pretty strangers pass on the street.  A splitstage destiny; lonely in relationship and half-life hues.
We forgive him for the ignorance he must forebear. (He is handsome.)

Another  character~ shadowed, blond, comes close- to demonstrate that a taste,  though unidirectional and self-generated, [unshared] is somehow All one life needs.  Presents another kind of predicament.  Man in sole pursuit of self satisfaction= the Man in Denial, shares the experience of  the lobotomized.  Memory/Joy are both self-medicating or forcefully erased.

And when memory is drilled out, and the brain drained of its felt senses.  Proteins (hunger stimulators) keep returning to the same Cells (joy synapses) only to find the hollowed-out spaces of Memories-in-Waiting (pangs) unfired.    Just chemistry.

And bad wiring.

Is this love?

When/how  Should they be replicated?  Keep clones coming nonstop (the human condition bathes in desire) or let us deny the perfume of nihilism.  Allow the full spectrum of pain [it’s full brilliance.]

Tibetan Buddhists would say, ‘you must have loved someone this way, Once;

The hand of slight [corrections] and U-turns.  Get-even Karma, the hand that knows  is the Eon that remembers in stone (and will always return for payment.)  Essential evidence, and the actions you must Revive.   Karma trades then for now.  Rests the brain in the Presence of Payment Due, moment after moment.  While here & now are soothing the heart, Present Perfect,
[makes me remember] splits the pain in two, half of yours is mine now- or worse, if it’s a well-traveled cold; builds to a dramatic end, then rends  all

You can purify the rest.  And all the parts
that say “Seemingly was never so.”

tara linda                                                                                2008  Copyright

A Showdown with the Muse

…a song inspired by a visit from the Muse when she was particularly testy. Gorgeous and sassy, this time sauntering into my wildwest dream town with an edgy do-or-die challenge to “blow me away!” with my music, or she would take me down…

On my new CD, Tortilla Western Serenade, the song “Muse’s Duel” was inspired by a visit from the Muse when she was particularly testy. Gorgeous & sassy, dressed in a billowing peasant’s dress, & this time sauntering into my wild west dream town shouting an edgy do-or-die challenge to “blow me away!” with music, or she would take me down.  Townsfolk shifted uncomfortably in the dusty street, thirsty to see a showdown.  I awoke in a sweat; “how will I survive a showdown with the best?!”

She confronts me in the chorus:

“Go ahead, amaze me!
I’ll make it up as you go.
Go ahead and take me down
swallow me whole…”

You can hear it here:

I sang this for years just on bass, solo.  It was a little more haunting then, but so nice to hear it now brought to life by the energy of bandmates and friends.

This has become my epitome song for the “Tortilla Western” sound I’ve been creating the last several years; part spaghetti western, part Tex-Mex, & rock.  A sound I don’t hear very much, and so songs I had to write & sing to fill the void.  The Southwest has a definite soundscape to it (more on that soon…).

Trumpet is by Al Gomez- (Westside Horns) in San Antonio, flamenco guitar David Gonzales.  Recorded at Wavelab Studios Tucson by Craig Schumacher (Devotchka, Neko Case, Calexico).

Following the Muse~

The Muses come to my world when I’m making music, writing poetry, or making jewelry- and they always leave me wanting more. I want to hear how the muse travels through others’ creative worlds too.

So I wanted to start a Muse’s Blog to hear and tell of the Muse’s meanderings wherever s/he goes, and to follow them wherever they are.  The Muses come to my world when I’m making music, writing poetry, making jewelry…and they always leave me content and awestruck-   (“How did that just happen!!”)  Of course they don’t always stay close.   I want to hear/see how the Muse travels others’ creative worlds too.

Sometimes the Muses visiting me are taunting when they arrive (“you only call when you want something.  Good luck!!”).  Other times they are kind and endearing.  Either way, they always impel, or leave me with something to think about (even if only abuse ;).  Inspiration is everywhere, but I think the Muses show up when we are meant to find something particular and to actively search follow something through to the end.  The Muses prod us- sometimes to just breathe in what inspires- from a distance;  sometimes to lose ourselves completely in some sweet act of creativity.