Memorial Day

This cloth

This folding and refolding of clouds, this rippled quilt of sea
pulled to shore and away — this is not the work of a god I believe in,
only a cinematic trick, a way to speak of the unfathomable,
distract eye and heart from bodies bloodied and fallen
in a synagogue, at a concert — oh any place bodies can huddle
in a moment’s hope or grief. The cloth of us ripped and frayed,
every thread torn from itself, warp from weft. And still,
here is what we do: collect the threads, pick the strands of light
from darkness, hold the gnarled ball in open palms to gather
our tears and then, slow as autumn’s night absorbs light,
we begin to weave.

. . . . .

weaving by J.I. Kleinberg, “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower” named for a poem by Dylan Thomas

poem by J.I. Kleinberg published in Clementine Unbound, February 2019

found poem: poetry

found poem © j.i. kleinberg
published in Synapse International

poem

Thank you Clementine Unbound for selecting another poem of mine for publication. “This Cloth” is the featured poem for the week of February 5 – 11, 2019.

LOOM…

found poem © j.i. kleinberg

these random sketches…

We studied textiles. We sat at looms. On long woven samplers, we traced the history of weaving. We threaded cards and heddles. We twined and knotted and looped our way through the millennia.

Then we twisted and bent and folded and amplified what we had learned to find our own language of fiber. One of the women said, I hate making all these little pieces; I have a drawer full of them. I want to make something big. And Ed Rossbach said, Think of Leonardo: all those drawings. Think how many sketches Leonardo made.

I am no Leonardo, but I remember Ed Rossbach, and I keep sketching…these words…here.