Jeff Miller
long huthered hajj
Notes
“long huthered hajj” is from Nathaniel Mackey, Splay Anthem (New York: New Directions, 2006), pg. 25.
“they fly with the clouds” is my translation of part of Qur’an 27:88
“let us go across the free bridge you and I” is from an untitled poem I wrote in 1996
“when the walls fell” is from Star Trek: The Next Generation, episode 2, season 5, “Darmok.”
“the last time I saw you you didn’t have brown hair”, from “Locket” on Moss Icon, Lyburnum Wits End Liberation Fly, 12” LP (New York: Vermiform Records, 1993).
“Noah called to the people by day and by” is from “Ararat” in Joseph Donahue, Dark Church (Chicago: Verge Book, 2015), pg. 222.
“polis is this” is from “Maximus to Gloucester, Letter 27 [withheld]” in Charles Olson, The Maximus Poems (Oakland: University of California Press, 1985), pg. 52.
“the one who asserts…” from Ibn al-‘Arabi, The Ringstones of Wisdom (Fusus al-hikam), translated by Caner K. Dagli (Chicago: Kazi Publications, 2010), pg. 37.
“the God whose law…”, Donahue, pg. 224
“the Folk of the Invisible…”, al-‘Arabi, pg. 49.
“if I’d seen the rock…”, from “I Like You Less Than Apple Pie” on Iconoclast, Groundlessness of Belief, 7” EP (Golita: Ebullition Records, 1994).
“the veils of darkness…”, al-‘Arabi, pg. 49.
“Those who were drowned”, a flip of word order, from Donahue, pg. 225.
“I have tone deaf silence…”, from “Corpus Christi” on Egress, Egress, (Parkersburg: Self-released demo cassette, 1995).
“sealing of…”, Donahue, pg. 226.
“When you are… your encasing”, al-‘Arabi, pg. 48.
“darkness up… the waters”, a translation of Genesis 1:2, see: Catherine Keller, Face of the Deep: a theology of becoming (Oxon: Routledge, 2003).
Jeff Miller's poems and essays have been published here and there, most recently in from a Compos't, Positive Magnets, and The Palgrave Handbook of Radical Theology. He was the coeditor of the chapbook series "What Would We Do Without Us," is the coeditor of Lightning'd Press, and the author of a few chapbooks including, La Vie / The Polemics: first communique and All of the Grace Poems. He's been working on a long poem, The Ardor, since 2007. A native of West Virginia, he now lives in Seattle.
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long huthered hajj
one foot through the other stone kiss circumambulation
mountain through the trees resting snow to ice rain is
in this breakfall twisting wrist this touch of you sleepless
in our quietly I leave again
awaking to the flood we thread the streets to ark
in this walkway lamplight damp against bricks
your lithe in the doorway pulled taught the floor
the second ring the spiral this crush of our us
skyscraper falls inversion lingering salt to the tongue
knees collapsing inward catching sword pushing
the meadows we imagined cracked pavement breath
your hand slipped in the press no waiting
endless ice endless beckoning no furniture the text
by this opening tree again again again whispering
breath losing thirds quickening our body’s press akimbo
her then her and her her this her her that her her again
such a small door in how this wall this pressure heat ringing out our
over ancient stone we stood these walls of cities collapsed
mountain top tips just above water they fly with the clouds
melted plastic for drink three fingers this bitter to the taste between
grey soot skies black hair this river will drown us all
release onto fours almost lingering this spirals up they say
your sheets so white in the morning cold diffused over flesh she said
every break every crack burned in the salt of
candle wax dripping effervescent skin sallow
it is coming still this wave of you break the bones toes split
wept on the floor staring hours drawn up and through this open
sitting on the hill the burning any moment now the
five elements five passes the spiral five fingers where threaded
hills tower treetops we knew this austerity scrapping silence
every night this floor every night nursing
we were once this town showering riding every rail these bridges
all water all water all water all water
three colors on repeat we weren’t three colors your French failed
let us go across the free bridge you and I
I would not have in six breaking down every this was us
tarmac tests this bounce you us this forever listening out for
my knees haven’t been right since in the corner of you there is the memory
we stood here again dreaming these ghosts you painted my poems
all water all water
across these this building glasswork this painful return to just how
homes not us when the walls fell this we believed this we
seven trips around kiss lingers Abraham’s folly founding rebuilding
from knees to hips hips to shoulders breath to neck ear the taste of you
bruised and broken right side failing yet
the last time I saw you you didn’t have brown hair wit’s end
all water
and never back again never thought street lamp moaning
the view from here was lovely when
bouncing between the hills enfolding our ecstatic complacencies in our
discrepancies describing our unhallowed driving these bridges and blisters
turning circumstances between this perpetual longing for your tongue
between the folds of my in this fold of you legs over head kicking walls
the drowning of our lingering Noah called to the people by day and by
this bruise under her chin the viola resounds its low strung vibrato
until before the after in the now of our polis is this memory frayed in how flows
the well the crush these towers dwindling
our broken landscapes the elves live here
the endless heat and windowless closures enacting the essence
this is where we thought the dreams were breaking
the one who asserts incomparability is either ignorant or is a man of poor adab
in the pigments of our your tears tearing the flesh to the bottom of
in flood wall conspiracies and the doubts of
the march to Ararat the cave the end of endings
when it turns upside down in the liquefaction of these urging undones
in failure complete the hills to sea dry in our incomparabilities
such motion of clicks the waysides the screams of terror joy ecstasy
the God whose law is resemblance the Folk of the Invisible who are enclosed within
walking the ice cracks to our in our these allowances to drive
if I’d seen the rock I surely would have moved
in the stoning itself is the form of all of our longings replete and disresolute
I have seen the ruins in the complete misery of denial your
pushing this penetration a few books
we drove away everytime these fits of insistence in our your
the veils of darkness except in ruin in their destruction Those who were drowned
I laid on the floor looking across the Maximus Poems in their width and heft while
you naked unfolding in your rhythms collected the poems through the length of your legs masking the meanings in every how of our immovable improbabilities as your moving across the floor formed the shape of the words in a waiting hush interrupted by our memories and the muscles of your lithe wishing broke upon the seas of our home shorn of any follicle that could chafe thigh labia or ribs in the quickness of your breath pirouetting the impossible knowns of these conditions that never left your tongue or let trails from the densities of how our very life depended upon the polities of our trials and every effort we made to
in the taste of this ash for air I have tone deaf silence for this now
this garden of seven cycles returning compensating the scale of our doubtings
in our collapse of densities felt more than this emotional weight of
how tenkan release or irimi grasping reinscribes itself on the fortune of our this
home we waited for this moment fucking others in the bed of our
sealing of / the entrance of the ark driving onto panic in our engraving
Pound on his bench feeding his cats cobblestone wishes forsaking
the crown of flowers you wore the grotto of our wedding the tree of our
Mahdi memories raise the flag of our very Dhulfiqar breath being
in the pressure mounting tones of the givenness of these ruins ringing
the forgotten bells of silencing elbow to ribs knee to head
we were not nor could ever be the power of our collapsing songs
When you are buried in it you are within it and it is your encasing
singing the depths of your dancing this erasure of your efforts unfolding
the ends of our beginnings balancing the last time I saw you you didn’t have brown hair
darkness
upon
the
face
of
the
waters
Notes
“long huthered hajj” is from Nathaniel Mackey, Splay Anthem (New York: New Directions, 2006), pg. 25.
“they fly with the clouds” is my translation of part of Qur’an 27:88
“let us go across the free bridge you and I” is from an untitled poem I wrote in 1996
“when the walls fell” is from Star Trek: The Next Generation, episode 2, season 5, “Darmok.”
“the last time I saw you you didn’t have brown hair”, from “Locket” on Moss Icon, Lyburnum Wits End Liberation Fly, 12” LP (New York: Vermiform Records, 1993).
“Noah called to the people by day and by” is from “Ararat” in Joseph Donahue, Dark Church (Chicago: Verge Book, 2015), pg. 222.
“polis is this” is from “Maximus to Gloucester, Letter 27 [withheld]” in Charles Olson, The Maximus Poems (Oakland: University of California Press, 1985), pg. 52.
“the one who asserts…” from Ibn al-‘Arabi, The Ringstones of Wisdom (Fusus al-hikam), translated by Caner K. Dagli (Chicago: Kazi Publications, 2010), pg. 37.
“the God whose law…”, Donahue, pg. 224
“the Folk of the Invisible…”, al-‘Arabi, pg. 49.
“if I’d seen the rock…”, from “I Like You Less Than Apple Pie” on Iconoclast, Groundlessness of Belief, 7” EP (Golita: Ebullition Records, 1994).
“the veils of darkness…”, al-‘Arabi, pg. 49.
“Those who were drowned”, a flip of word order, from Donahue, pg. 225.
“I have tone deaf silence…”, from “Corpus Christi” on Egress, Egress, (Parkersburg: Self-released demo cassette, 1995).
“sealing of…”, Donahue, pg. 226.
“When you are… your encasing”, al-‘Arabi, pg. 48.
“darkness up… the waters”, a translation of Genesis 1:2, see: Catherine Keller, Face of the Deep: a theology of becoming (Oxon: Routledge, 2003).
Jeff Miller's poems and essays have been published here and there, most recently in from a Compos't, Positive Magnets, and The Palgrave Handbook of Radical Theology. He was the coeditor of the chapbook series "What Would We Do Without Us," is the coeditor of Lightning'd Press, and the author of a few chapbooks including, La Vie / The Polemics: first communique and All of the Grace Poems. He's been working on a long poem, The Ardor, since 2007. A native of West Virginia, he now lives in Seattle.
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