This first poem really is three poems that relate to each other but come from different places. First, the Man of the Northern Wall is a mage and power behind the throne of a queen, much as Merlin was behind Arthur. That is the sense of the Magic. There are limits even at the best of times because the age of true magic is in the Golden Age of archetype, or the Dream Time of the Australian aborigines, or the before times of any cultures. In other words, full power magic was in the world prior to the world of history. Even the most powerful mage is limited in historical time.
Then there is Coyote, one of my favorite gods, almost not a god, he is such a screw up. Often he is hilarious, sometimes stupid, sometimes brilliant. He has a kind but self centered heart and can be cruel, even mean it. In short he is as tangled up as we are.
The last verse goes from a touchy task to the fact that we can all fall from high enough to hurt, and this at any time.
And I mean it. There is something in me that is so arrogant that I think I can save the world.
If I were Magic
And Magic was as I dream
Then so much would change.
Coyote is the teacher,
Shows the corkscrew way of things.
To thread the needle
Takes courage, wit, hollow bones,
Or else you fall, break.
Yesterday over at mole Dale posted a prose poem about being stretched between the dock of desire and heaven's boat, how that might cause you to fall into the water. I replied that in AA we often say, "if you have one foot in yesterday and one foot in tomorrow, you're pissing all over today". Here's another in between.
Between the stony
Walls, so close, I find the tree,
Twisted ancient tree.
It lives as if all is sane.
It lives as if I love you.
I too live between
My stony heart, my rock hard
Mind, in this long day.
April Poetry Month
4 hours ago