#new bones

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[Walking the Ellithorpe::: 1950s]

* * * *

“new bones”

we will wear new bones again. we will leave these rainy days, break out through another mouth into sun and honey time. worlds buzz over us like bees, we be splendid in new bones. other people think they know how long life is. how strong life is. we know.

Lucille Clifton

[shy-girl04]

Fannie Lou Hamer with husband Pap and friends, Ruleville, Mississippi. ©Bruce Davidson/Magnum 1970

new bones

we will wear

new bones again.

we will leave

these rainy days,

break out through

another mouth

into sun and honey time.

worlds buzz over us like bees,

we be splendid in new bones.

other people think they know

how long life is

how strong life is.

we know.

Lucille Clifton

[anxiousfurr]

I had a dream last night where some shit was happening, and then Jared Hopworth stole some of my bones

Then Martin was there and he said, "Don't worry, we can just get you new bones"

And I have absolutely no idea where he got the bones, but they seemed to be exactly the same as the ones that Jared stole from me

[lifeinpoetry]

worlds buzz over us like bees, we be splendid in new bones. other people think they know how long life is. how strong life is. we know.

— Lucille Clifton, from “new bones,” The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton 1965-2010

[meaningfall]

———

C. A. Singh • Stuck

New Bones Prompt

4-2-21

[ellenya]

I read poems when I’m worn out.

Each one regenerates a part of me,

New mind

New skin

New bones

New spirit

Until I can face the world again,

Swirling through life

With poetry on my periphery

For the next time I need it,

And once more I am new,

All new.

[cruxymox]

once upon that time when i

came back up to breathe from six feet

under but this whisper i

took the grass i

sweet & grabbed tight

i pushed my tongue into the citrus buzzing i

springtime, a dry but heavy dirt

oh i felt that sun in another's marrow

really but the night by itself was mine

moon honey-toothed & sugar-eyed

under sheets

( long, smooth )

a white stone lay near to my pillow

( unetched of yet ) we

never were here before

[tinysupergiant]

New Bones

We see them through the bird’s eye:

drifter of dunes, traverser of the orange sea.

That fleck of humanity is ours:

an ant in our sandbox, like a lone star in

an inverted sky.

We circle them, fix them

in the telescope of our mind

with piqued curiosity:

maladapted form of

urban descent; product of smoke;

guardian of stone labyrinths and

metal skeletons that frame

the mirror worlds.

This is not their land.

Here, under the glaring fireball, over

the dragon’s gold, they are outflanked by

the sidewinder, stalked by the abrasive wind,

overlooked by wagering angels

who mark, already, the end of their trail with

its shimmering mirage.

The oldest of magic presides here:

each grain of sand – a relic of an

ancient spell that was cast to accelerate

life’s precocity and ensure these

final conditions were met.

There is no escape.

No.

We see them through the bird’s eye but

we are not the bird.

We are the one who wanders

across the desert of our mind;

the one we see, who staggers

through the wastes of imagination

towards that long awaited promise of becoming

new bones.