Octaves

Admin Noelle Adamo

I. Space
In this love-movement I want to give you things –
space to discover where you stand,
the cast towards rising or settling,
adventure through your heart’s pathways,
protection from the elements of undoing,
pleasure in the midst of confusion,
peace in your choices,
faith you are carried.

II. Unfurled
Like a dream of a new gesture or sound
my tongue begins in my stomach and slowly
unravels the red carpet for the feet of my ancestors as they
wanted to feel more but couldn’t, as they wanted freedom
but were trapped, as this life is different this body can sing,
this body has hips that loosen and receive the moon,
it can tendril and trace the moment,
pause, open armed, belly up.

III. Flow
On a good day the mother pours
warm sunrise on a body asleep.
She lifts our arms, kisses our feet,
lightens the weight we imagine.
We are awakened to place
as we move in new ways,
gentle as we notice, soft to the quiet,
snow with a bloom of marigolds.

IV. Breath
Ocean Mama, purify me.
Escape the cave
of your defiant mouth.
Surface your turbulence,
my depths are too quietly
waiting. I must return
to the pulse
of your open arms.

V. Sound
I’m at the hem of a storm,
I’m at the rise of a wave,
My shape suspends; I listen,
thunder low all around.
I rumble then enter the hive
buzz through the funnel of my bones
travel into the thick slow
golden tone of honey, and silence.

VI. Time
Some mechanism makes its way
under the skin of my hands and face,
stringing pearls out of the seconds of my life.
I extend my limbs into days and let my body
set the pace. Infinite in the web
that encompasses me I take up time,
I meander, I linger in this rebellion
of slow. I bend towards delight.

VII. Form/Formlessness
We enter our bodies
but we are dying to escape
slippery in our choices until we curl
into ourselves and discover
we are many armed things,
our hearts have many branches,
our muscles spiral around one another,
our exhale extends to the wind.

VIII. Resonance
I am not human all of the time
when my hips rock to the hips of others
unseen, when my most delicious growl
inspires a delicate turn of the head,
when I rest in the opportunity to move.
I release repetition, I regard impulse
and eyes closed,
I taste sugar in the stars.

===========================

Layers of Wet

Puddle spreads to embrace
this green rain. I am held by the pool
of the love soaked universe
and though I could swim
I stumble, dewy fawn,
playing in the laughter
of God’s wet throat.

Puddle spreads to embrace
the breath in my back
under the warm hands of another.
Waves wash exhale from inhale
as they touch and release the palms
of my hands, the bottoms of my feet,
a gentle lap on the shore all night.

Puddle spreads to embrace
the slow dissolve of my shoulders
as they become something else,
I think it must be happiness,
all that was there is gone.
I cry and cry and cry
into the fertile ground.
Puddle spreads to embrace it all.

 

How to Participate in Evolution

Admin Noelle Adamo

First you have to hold on and remember
that you too are a part of the wind,
otherwise when you breathe
you’ll feel either startled or free
and forget to listen. And then like me
you might notice the person next to you
and disconnect from the rhythm
of a hundred horses making a trail.
You’ll fall into the familiar grasses
of gestures and glances and memory
or forget to move,
left in the wake of the herd.
Or you will move faster than is true,
body all jiggle and fruit and sugar lumps
with a head that nods the way
to two legs and fins and wings and none.
Your voice which always has something
new to share once again wonders
if it is brave enough to sound a singular vowel
until at last you do.
You leave nothing behind
and it tangerines the mind,
brings you to all fours so you can
slow search for the sound
that carries the tongue to the spleen
to your spine to every spine,
while the floor is nowhere
just as the field is everywhere,
and all that hums loosens you past the edge
to fingertip touch something new,
like to this vine
that was there for years to tangle you
into some form of not you, but that dies back,
then begins to sprawl with the next
sound’s stretch and your attention
now to flower morning glories to yield
to the roses of the day to the moonflowers
of the night to earth wire music
from the small coos of infants
to the oceans and back
so that your palms open
and your body spreads
and you breathe
from every cell.

 

Trapped at home while trucks pave the road

Admin Noelle Adamo

Trapped at home while trucks pave the road leading to my house making it impassible, I sit in my kitchen and eat a pomegranate and stew with what to do with the pain of rejection.

I forgot to move my car.

Next to the vase
of wilted flowers
the pomegranate
fills both hands.

Outside trucks groan
to force a way on earth.

Meanwhile the world
races past roads.

I look for a new direction.

Everything and everyone
competes with the speed
of everything and everyone

while hurt feels like
it takes longer than ever

to pass.

It’s too late to slow down

to meet the wounds
with a kiss
but I must steady
the knife.

I’d like to be where I was
four lifetimes ago,
when this pomegranate
dropped into my hand

from the branch you shook.

It opened. I opened.
Then you were gone.

The taste was enough.

Any struggle was masked
by the pace of camels.

One slice now
and I can break open
this fruit

as full as the day

stain my hands,
sour my tongue

separate again and again
chamber from chamber
jewel from skin

break suck consume finish

then I’m kickin’ asphalt

the first red bud
to push through
the pavement.

Witness

Admin Noelle Adamo

BY NOELLE ADAMO

Woman one day went away
no one not even the birds of prey could find her.

They flew all the way to Haiti, Italy
and Africa to find her

but Woman went further,

leaping over mountains
with long legs that grew longer.

She spun the globe beneath her feet
all the way to the talking toads

where all was dark green blue purple and wet.

Here she disappeared and only some would glimpse her
through the jungle mist and muck

in this time of toad song.

Finally when she looked up to the sky
it was with her eyes closed

and in this way
she let in layers of light from distant stars.

As she did so her right arm lifted,
languid and quiet as seaweed

and softly peeled open her dreams.

Woman watched on, eyes closed.
Then her left toes quivered.

Her legs grew shorter,
rediscovering themselves as tentacles,

then her arm as a fin.

The fat ancient toads
surrounded her in circle.

Shadows swung in trees.

They immersed her in base tones
and overtones and arrhythmic pauses.

The toad song was all she could hear.

Sounds without shapes loosened
the string of her spine.

Woman spiraled through mud. Woman curled
around rocks and sprawled

over leaves.

Woman surrendered her hips
to their pink involuted tissue

and her skin melted away.

The toads watched on now,
all silent now,
all Witness now,

revealed and released
by the space
between her movements.

They emerged as Wave
while Woman dissolved,

the pools

all within her joints, knees shoulders
wrists fingers knees ankles toes,

invisible

but resonant to the sound of the rain.