Friday, August 6, 2010

Into the Wind: Enneagram Poems, Riverside Books, copyright 1995


Winding Sheets (Enneagram Style Nine)

Humping sleep
is my dream,
smothering passion
in a nightshirt.
There's no way
to join me -
I please myself.
Labyrinthine veil
of emotions,
persona smooth,
ungathered,
entombed.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Stalker (Enneagram Style Eight)

It's a thirst
like a baby's cry,

a wanting so strong
its force enthralls me.

I could eat the world
and still hunger,

vent my rage at all
beyond my grasp.


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Regatta (Enneagram Style Seven)

My number's slapped on
like a rainbow, red
paint and orange.

The sea-air stings:

I could dive in
if I were sea-worthy
but too deep, too dark:
    someone down there
    has sea-legs   

didn't dream away sea-weeds,
didn't smooth the lines
    fill the sails
    skim the surface
    sing a sea-chant.


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

DMZ (Enneagram Style Six)

They hold my country
in a peace treaty.
Like sandbags, fear piles around
(I keep watch even in sleep).

They dole out supplies and I
    a hungry war orphan
    crawl closer
to take, then push away
(it could be poison).

And grass grows around
    so enticing
    keeps me quiet
impotent (in my fear
of being theirs).


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Bastion (Enneagram Style Five)

The tower steep and tall,
my castle affords celestial views.
So ethereal my privacy
I could miss myself for days.
A retreat complex as a mollusk,
spiraling inward to passionate
places many walls deep.

Rolling woods surround me, where
unicorns and maidens never meet.
And far away, all around, the moat:
    if you would cross, a warning -
    I draw the bridge.


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Boddhisatva (Enneagram Style Four)

Compassion
is a keen blade,
but too sharp --
the keening in me
mourns the world.
And my soul
must pass through Hell
or a thousand lives:
Nirvana requires it.



*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Contest (Enneagram Style Three

I can be beautiful.
Chameleon on the runway:
    turning,
    turning,
    each side more appealing
    than the last.

Magician, quick-change artist,
    onstage I dazzle,
    win the title:

    Girl in Pink
    Little Boy Blue

You applaud,
I stare blankly at my crown.


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Mommy (Enneagram Style Two)

I am drawn to 
your blood source,
heartened by your need,
alive with your pain,
the transfusion
long and sweet.
But which of us is drained?
Why do I sink,
heart quickened,
back into the night?


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *


Avenging Angel (Enneagram Style One)

The voice in me


eternally minding,
wings of damnation 
castigate my soul.

I right the wrongs

always reminded
of the Dark Sister,
the growing side.

Are we One,
I, the wounded?



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