Neruda Moon

Neruda Moon

New Moon  October 6, 2021

Pablo Neruda was born

under a moon

named Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto

he is at home now

minding tide on the black isle

the harvest labor done

his wives contented on separate barges

their own lives dropping petals, taking flight

his hand is free to write in charcoal

his eyes afire with azure rays, sulphur lens

burning attention upon the loneliness of the light switch

the sorrow of the screendoor’s crying

the inimitable dullness of the metal post

to which a donkey is restrained

when the poet looks around at the unkempt

he sees a riot & barricade of unexploded possibilities

to which he’s called to compose verse

in his loping slanted handwriting

the hand of a gentle man leaves stars stained

cold blue & fiery orange, conjuncted

in this ordinary moment where envelopes

full of numbered dullness arrive

 where feral cocks crow ricochets at dusk

falling away steeply from the road into the verdant canyon

where the locals consecrate sofas & vacuums, the materiality

they wish to outrun buried in saltpine & birds of paradise—

the moon of Neftali exhales imperceptibly, pulsing light

with a sound like a lizard blinking

perhaps nearing sleep, a tiny thrum of blood

the turquoise circle surrounding the black reptilian eye

is radiant & momentous as the birth of a savior

the salvation, he writes, is ours to dream

perhaps we need dark waters to curl & drown

all the luminosity from the nightmoon

so that supermundane stars might reappear

& awaken us to our responsibility to rise up

as passionate & functional as the legs of a desk

& commence blessing our communal journey

back & forth from shore to shore

still doubly blind but able to see again

all the beauty written on water

Poem by Qayyum Johnson.

Painting by Suiko McCall. No Realm of Sight, 2019. Triptych 12×4″, Ink on paper, mounted on panel. Available at Suiko.art.