Three New Poems By Max Ghiara

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Two Platonic Solids by the author

Visiting Ancestors

I asked old Master Herbert Z
if his ancestors had ever
come home to him,
every other morning,
looking for words

& if it had been hard
for him to imagine
the wordless worlds
they inhabited

essentially, said Master Z,
ancestors come to check if
our lives are aimed
at the dead center
of the rising sun,
where there is
no black or white
or any vari-colored wheel’s turn
& steel flows like whiskey
on the tongue,
because they know
words cannot prevent
dryness of the heart
which is all
they worry about

Recipe for Sole

As we drove across the bridge
spanning the river,
there was a blue flash
of a kingfisher’s wings,
like the red-eye making
flash
of an instantizing camera:

       click, pause, gone: blue eyes?

I’ve been here too long,
said the old man in the back seat,
rummaging among the many
heads he had plucked over the years:

     from books, memories,
     vegetable patches,
     let’s see, here’s
     Averroes vs. Aquinas:

     Basically an old conundrum:

     soul may or may not be individual
     but serves us well enough:
     Who’s for dancing cabbages:
    my many-cheeked dervishes?
cabbage head 1: Averroes,
laid on a bed of
olive oil & red pepper;
cabbage head 2: Aquinas,
bathed in a pesto of garlic &
fresh churned butter

& all the other things we plucked that
stand scrutiny & respond to love

Aphorisms #64

(For Vasudeo Gaitonde)

silence could be a color
if colors spoke

assembled in
color swatches
of alphabets:
vowels:
consonants:
syllabaries:

but colors are silent
because they’re
already complete
in themselves

like this tree
which is green
holding a roof
over earth, over hell

and a floor for heaven
above, which is basically space

with its own tantrums
its meteor showers
its falling stars

its unending vastness

all colors from a
different palette


More paintings by Max Ghiara can be found here.