50 | Steel Notes Magazine steelnotesmagazine . com | June 2014
Poetry Corner - with Puma Pearl
Puma Perl is a widely published poet and writer . She is the author of two chapbooks , the award-winning Belinda and Her Friends and Ruby True , and two full-length collections knuckle tattoos and the newly published Retrograde ( great weather for MEDIA press ). She was the co-creator , co-producer , and main curator of DDAY Productions , which mounted shows in various NYC venues . Her newest venture is Puma Perl ’ s
Pandemonium , which launched at the Bowery Electric in 2012 and brings poetry together with rock and roll .
There will be a book launch party celebrating the release of Retrograde on Tuesday , June 3 , 8-10 PM at the Parkside Lounge , 317 East Houston Street @ Attorney , NY , NY . Admission is free . Book signing and poetry and rock n roll from Puma Perl and Friends , The Bowery Boys , and more .
For more information about Puma Perl ’ s work and performance schedule : http :// www . amazon . com / Puma-Perl / e / B003VODDBK http :// pumaperl . blogspot . com /
Gravity
The night the birds fell I dreamt of two women . They perched on platforms above the clouds , bodies coiled like snakes wild hair , long necks , one blonde , one dark .
Unwinding their bodies , they stepped out , arms raised , tumbling gracefully downward , free falls to planet earth , a globe forever in rotation , where time is measured in darkness and rain and the short , hard lives of caterpillars .
The next morning I step over broken wings , feathers , and high heeled shoes . Birds and beautiful women have fallen from the sky , magnetized by planetary forces . Balls have stopped bouncing . Clocks do not wind , high tide drifts out to sea , oak trees sway , waiting patiently .
Birds and women have fallen . The earth has lost its force . Only the stars still matter .
I Don ’ t
In January , the Full Wolf Moon howled on a smokestack , running off just as I raised my camera It ’ s a cold February night , I wait patiently for the moon ’ s return , but it ’ s transformed into a Full Hunger Moon , illuminating sky over water , avoiding bridges and my bedroom window . Some tribes call it the Full Snow Moon , but not in New York , not even a flurry . I take bad photographs and write another dozen poems to the moon , and several more to black eyeliner . I sit on the bus writing poems about poems I don ’ t write and remember a Bronx workshop and Fish Vargas , who hated poems about poems , and my delight when Thomas read another poem about poems and Fish fumed and tapped his pencil . I don ’ t go to workshops any more . I don ’ t go to twelve step meetings any more either . The difference is that nobody yells at me for not going to workshops . I can write poems anywhere . I could even write poems about spiritual principles anywhere , but they would be bad poems , worse than poems about poems , would never mention black eyeliner or the moon . Next month , the ground will begin to thaw and the Full Worm Moon will slither into the sky . At some point , I ’ ll sit on a bus with a bag full of black liner and batteries . In the case of a power outage , I can apply make-up by flashlight and write poems about poems , new poems about moons and darkness and long flights of stairs that carry me closer to the sky , I will wear red lipstick at the window , wondering how long it will last this time , how long I will last next time . A Full Pink Moon arrives in April , do I change the palette of my face , maybe this time I ’ ll get that photo , the one where I stop and nod my head , the got it ! shot that marks the moment forever , like a poem . I don ’ t understand black eyeliner . I don ’ t understand the moon . ♫
50 | Steel Notes Magazine steelnotesmagazine . com | June 2014