Sunday, December 6, 2009

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


Winding Sheets (Personality 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 (Personality Style Eight)

It's a thirst
like a baby's cry
inchoate --
a wanting so strong
its force enthralls me.

I could eat the world
and still hunger
to not have it,
vent my rage at all
beyond my grasp.


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Regatta (Personality Style Seven)

My number's pasted on,
slapped on myself
with red paint, and orange.
The sea-air stings.

I could cry, could dive in
if I were sea-worthy
but it's too deep, too dark:
    someone else down there
    has sea-legs
    knows things

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


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

DMZ (Personality Style Six)

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

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 me
    so enticing
    keeps me quiet
impotent (in my longing
to be theirs).


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Bastion (Personality 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 (Personality 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 (Personality 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 (Personality 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 (Personality 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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