December 5, 2011

Untitled Poem by Martin Willitts Jr.

this is the Hour of Lead” Emily Dickinson, #341
This is when heaviness plunges heart into ice water,
fractures a person into flakes, breakable as weather
under leaden air. If not fall,
then into uselessness. If not overcome,
bruised --- then mashed, flat, to earth.
Redemption is the least word we speak.
What is mutable is changed; or left
fragmented, into the alchemy of utterances,  
bending things into newness ---
red hot, glowing --- shovels storms.
This is when altering your life is necessary.
If not lead, then what could make you different?
When a forge cools, ambers turn potash white ---
metal no longer vibrates—it settles into silence.
In our personal storm, we search the Spirit ---
and the Spirit finds us --- then, nothing is the same.

Martin Willitts Jr has had eight poetry chapbooks accepted this year including “True Simplicity” (Poets Wear Prada Press, 2011), “My Heart Is Seven Wild Swans Lifting” (Slow Trains, 2011), “Why Women Are A Ribbon Around A Bomb” (Last Automat, 2011), “Art Is Always an Impression of What an Artist Sees” (Muse CafĂ©, 2011), “Protest, Petition, Write, Speak: Matilda Joslyn Gage Poems” (Matilda Joslyn Gage Foundation, 2011), How To Find Peace” (Kattywumpus Press, 2011), “Swimming In The Ladle Of Stars” (Pudding House, 2011) and “Secrets No One Wants To Talk About” (Dos Madres Press, 2011).

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