‘This page contains different identity aspects.
Having Being’ Parts I, II & III stem from cultures’ creative contemplations: how we got here, how we interact, how we choose to be versus have. Being trumps having. Joan rollicks in verb conjugation rhythms which are laced throughout. ‘Instill and till those verses’. ‘Having Being’ evokes a dervish dance uncoiled to find our kernel.
Listen to Joan’s May, 2013 blogtalk radio interview that considers ‘kicking up some spray’ in the youtubing world with a blend of word/movement/music: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ns-writers/2013/05/29/a-live-chat-with-poet-joan-boxall
Part I Having Being (chorus/refrain)
When will I see myself
As I truly am?
Stripped down semblance;
Serene, composed, tranquil.
Turn, spin, revolve.
Dizzy the coil.
Obscure turmoil.
Adapted from North Shore Writer’s Association Anthology ‘Still Running’, Rogue Literary Press, used with permission, all rights reserved, Joan Boxall, 2010
Part II
Emerging from the void;
Filling the darkness
With realization:
I am, you are, he/she/it is,
And so are we and they.
Who? You. What? This and that.
When and where? Here and now.
Why? We are still asking…
How much, how many, how long
How far, how old…how are you?
Uplifted, illuminated, alive?
Downcast, gloomy, fading?
Metamorphosing;
Feeling through four portals:
Eyes, ears, mouth and nose
Eyes and ears, mouth and nose.
With light.
Babble’s unscrambled
From silence to articulation.
Disparity finds clarity.
Back to front.
Rewind, unwind, fast forward and record.
Seek, strive, stumble, get up, fall down in a
Phase, cycle, sequence.
Resting in thoughtful cocoons
Between polarities.
Satisfied essence yet
Dissatisfied presence.
Tipster/trickster will undermine
Our search for equilibrium
Between nothing and everything,
No one and everyone,
Nowhere and everywhere to
Something, someone, somewhere.
Teetertotteringly crawl towards it.
Hang on without grasping
And we’re going to be, and/or/but/so– not:
We will, and/or/but, so be it.
Adapted from North Shore Writers Association Anthology, 2009, used with permission, all rights reserved, Joan Boxall, Rogue Literary Press
Back to Top
Part III
I am, I’m, I’m not, am I?
Yes, I am. No, I’m not. (uh uh)
You are, you’re, you’re not, are you?
Yes, you are. No, you’re not. You aren’t.
He is, he’s, he’s not, is he?
Yes, he is. No, he’s not. He isn’t.
She is, she’s, she’s not, is she?
Yes, she is. No, she’s not. She isn’t.
They are, they’re, they’re not, are they?
Yes, they are. No, they’re not. They aren’t.
We are, we’re, we’re not, are we?
Yes, we are. No, we’re not. We aren’t.
Who we are.
Who we are
Provides such verse ability.
Let’s till those verses:
Verse advice, vice versa
Verse; sad vice.
Mulch, prune and nurture them in our
Converse, perverse universe
Of humanity, inhumanity,
Thoughtfulness, thoughtlessness.
Awakening, slumbering in
Rhythmic patterns.
To’ing and fro’ing
Im-pulsing waves
Of in-di-vi-du-a-li-ty,
Di-vi-sive du-a-li-ty,
Mortality.
Taciturn, take your turn,
Take a stand, take it in,
Take it easy, take your time.
All in good time.
In-still,
Un-till we see ourselves as we truly are…
Adapted from North Shore Writers’ Association, 2009 Anthology, poem by Joan Boxall, all rights reserved, used with permission.
Part I (refrain) Having Being
When will we see ourselves
As we truly are?
Stripped down semblances;
Serene, composed, tranquil.
Turn, spin, evolve.
Dizzy the coil.
Obscure turmoil.
Adapted from North Shore Writer’s Association Anthology ‘Still Running’, Rogue Literary Press, used with permission, all rights reserved, Joan Boxall, 2010
Veneers
We all know We all know
What an open door looks like What a brick wall feels like
Clarity, simplicity, unlocking Insurmountable, closed solid,
Its free access Imposing, blockage
To honesty, generosity With no hope of perspective.
Whose possibilities go on We can’t get over it…
Everlastingly. Hardly ever.
But between the two
There’s a meniscus of
Tension
Like invisible duct tape
A gag, but not the funny kind,
Muffling me getting you
Or you getting me.
We’re not bonding
And there’s a sticky trick.
Is it getting to you?
We’re coming unglued:
Dis-con-nec-‘TING’!
I can’t see, hear, look, or listen;
Only smell, taste and feel
Electrical crackling interference,
Distorted tightness,
Binding tautness,
Adhesive’s incoherence.
Constricting, misconstruing
The glue that might join us
Becomes the wrong end of the stick
Boiling our bones, skins, horns and hooves
Into a gooey gap.
We’re cracking up
Like polar icecaps
Adapted from North Shore Writer’s Association Anthology, 2009
Rogue Literary Press, Joan Boxall, all rights reserved.
Hand Spells Podcast
Outstretched fingers
Imprint
Like the senses.
See, hear, smell, taste, touch
Thumb, index, middle, ring, and pinkie.
The hand casts its form
And when raised,
The sand cools,
The shape remains
In sifting between-ness.
A person outstretched
Makes their mold;
Their imprint
So much more
Than what they’ve
Seen, heard, smelled, tasted, touched.
Did they ponder the between-ness;
Their contour and definition?
And find out
All the things they
Wanted to know:
What is and what
Remains?
Inside and out
Outside and in?
Hands up, hands down,
Digits and opposing
Thumbs up, thumbs down?
Knuckles,
Nails,
Tips, metacarpals,
Wrist and palm?
Manicured,
Manacled,
Maneuver?
Kneading,
Breaking,
Buttering,
Placing,
Imbibing,
Manipulating?
The weapon,
The word,
The knife,
The gun?
In giving and taking,
Grasping and letting go,
Healing,
Worshipping,
Communicating.
Each digit;
Like a sense.
In between
Imprinting
So much more.
Outstretched fingers
On warm sand
Press in
To a mold
Of the hand.
Listen to Joan’s May, 2013 blogtalk radio interview that considers ‘kicking up some spray’ in the youtubing world with a blend of word/movement/music: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ns-writers/2013/05/29/a-live-chat-with-poet-joan-boxallAdapted from North Shore Writers’ Anthology 2011, ‘Cake’
All rights reserved, Joan Boxall, used with permission
Rogue Literary Press