Tuesday, September 14, 2010

September 12th: Patrick Brawley

Patrick Brawley is a gifted poet, recent graduate from Sarah Lawrence, and current publishing intern. I really appreciated how his poem integrated what surrounded us in the museum without being overwhelmed by it. His poem and thoughts are below.

Buddha of Medicine Bhaishajyaguru

Darlin’ caught a murder rap
in dry desert heat, running
round dunes slowly shifting

in the wind. Vehicular evil sliding
down her throat navigating glass component
fragile valley clearing. Can’t grow

no corn in sand boy your soil is to dry.
It goes much deeper
than what she said,
her humid voice dusting off them old tools;

hadn’t used them in ages. Forgot how
to turn up earth, irrigate the limited
moments of each secret trickling under

her feet filed in tributaries of disappointment. Tool
spoon handle with no basin, I walk the ridge
hoping for the valley that if I stay there long enough

I’ll become antiquities, an ashtray that old pot, buried
heavy enough to avoid the shattered
parapet swept into dustpan of the horizon’s

deviated septum. Each gravitational leak
pulling her deeper into the oasis
a grain of sand looking for love;

a astrolabe guiding light to the shaman driving
blind toward another sunrise stacked
on the sarcophagus painted around his head.

In the dry heave’ staring at the girl I wanted,
did you play hard to get? Do you love me
God? I’ll eat this rotten harvest; afraid of famine

worms burrowed their way to pavement. That dry
spell ate the sun hollering fire in public space. Drawbridge
dumped its cargo of pills into my industrial mouth

enlightening my bankruptcy, a river boat man
took me across swallowing lotus lilies to float away,
balloon strung to a message for the lord.

Observations: Patrick Brawley

It was great to see Cait for the first time since our graduation. The Met is a great place to see friends one hasn’t seen in awhile. Its art spanning the timeline of the human journey tying knots to form a latter of universal consciousness that we all climb, get off, and rejoin through out our lives. It was fantastic to catch up and see exactly were Cait was in the adventure. Talking about everything from cell phones to personal identity we strolled through a city dug up and placed inside a museum, which seems appropriate, building monuments to the triumph of human spirit. We began writing in the Islamic section of the museum. I have somehow seemed to always walk right passed it, and thought this a great opportunity to immerse myself in something new since we all seem to be striving to make our own voice in a new season of our lives. We then switched to Asian sculpture and the immense Buddha of Medicine stared at me. We all search for our medicine through different paths, and we each find serenity in our heart. The struggle to find our path however personal is a universal passage that is what truly makes us all human. It was great to catch up with Cait, and I wish her well in all her future endeavors.

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