MARK CARTILE
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Words

Selected poems by Mark Cartile

In the Distance


As a third cloud formed above our heads,
each one's shadow cast upon the other in a hierarchy of altitudes
we clasped our frozen hands
and funnelled the rain through our arms

Pools of water gathered at our feet and grew

In the distance
the circumferential horizon contracted
revealing clusters of symbols
carved out of earth, sun, moon, 
water and bone

Rattles, reeds, hides and clubs
hung from branches just above our reach
the presence of which evoked soothing sounds
and corporeal rhythms
warming our hands  
and reminding us of our providential birth

Beneath us, rocks rose from the surface
lifting us beyond the watermark 
from where floods recede in Spring 

The fear subsided

The sky opened
embraced us

and only the backs of our necks
could sense what was beyond.



​Through Black Water Fury


Through black water fury
the stone sinks always deeper

receding past the memory 
of what holds things together
as we pull ourselves apart

Its girth defined 
by the hand that threw it
with an intent disarmed
by the aching beauty of loss.

We bathe in this pool
drink from its source
kiss the flooded shores of its reach 

knowing in our bones their longing for warmth and mercy

We are of this place
of clay, of skin and scales



Flight


With both arms 
reaching painfully close
to the boundaries of a thought

Singular and ancient

Preceded only 
by the hallowed anchored branch

sullen carrier of heads hung low

where once sung
and will sing again 

the to and fro 
of children 
discovering flight



Six Last Steps


Six last steps

Painfully brittle to bone
bloody to bear and crimson to touch

Hungered, withered and torn.

Whose fetch twists hurdled twine
thorned at root
slight with grasp 

​slipping from fall
From whispers, from screams

echoed at night

the darkened cloth
dropped from high

reaching warmly
    
Swallowing the votive lovelings.



The Gift


What seed rests behind the glyph
or in the gestured crowd
all quiet through the daily take
off the cuff it flies

Cursed, it spoils the winter broth
where hunger stalks the still
the numb, the dazed, the underwhelmed
the loaf of bread and the ripest plum

This fruit to bare the softest word
a branch to breach the molten crust
with anchored roots in the songs of hope
in trust an oath that mends the cloth

The weave that catches the finest dust
and keeps us warm with the swaddled touch
of fingers reaching through the glass
extending inwards beyond the known

with hoe and axe
pick and shovel
for clearing the space required to grow
the patient soil of the deepest hue
calls us forth to receive its gift.



This Hallowed Cube


This hallowed cube

crystalline from inception
gently nudging the emplacement of stars

Its shadow anchored in the memory 
of a disfigured moon 

forgotten 

yet not born of a history 
dreamt up over merging continents 
with vessels adrift between earth and sky

Umber oxen bringing forth tomorrow's harvest

The rhythm of their breath revealed in the gentle sway  
of one thousand flowers 
we have offered along the way

Pollen beneath their hooves 
thrust into the ground with each step

Cylindrical vaults of unknowable possibilities

flowers yet to be 

and food for the tiniest of giants

Within days
rainwater will fill these holes
and create oceans to live by

and there
we will build a fire 
to warm our hands and feet
and we will sleep

until it is no longer safe.





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  • Selected Paintings
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  • Music: One Trillion Galaxies