poem: The Geology of Human Fault

poem: The Geology of Human Fault

A Chapter by Marie Anzalone

for Trayvon, maybe



For geology, I understand anger:

that slow subduction, swallowing

 simmering in a pit of resentment under

the surfaces of normalcy

  a time bomb waiting

for its trigger, a pressure cooker

under threat of internal rupture


Like so many,

 the little Cocos here

is trying to disappear, feed itself

entirely underneath the Caribbean

 and North American.

 

A self is never subdued completely

to another

without consequence.


Just ask any subjugated thing-

  a wife, population, race,

 deferred dream and

resource misappropriated,

     or continental plate;

  and it will tell you stories

 of inevitable fault lines

of not-quite-stray bullets

   and strike slip boundaries,

places where intensity builds

    and lets off small or great sparks,


unleashing energy. It will tell

  you maybe about the suffocation

of being held down under water

    or set on fire.


It is cognizant of the potential

   and the massive power

needed to evoke the kinetic.


and it will delineate the story of magma,

fluid and rolling, the internal convection,

 the insistent conveyor belt

    that can move continents,

  crash them into each other

     uplift mountains and tear

   down structures.


This may not be my fight

 but it is everyone's fight

   and I can appreciate the fact

  that motion is hard to stop

once it commences and there

   are continents' worth

of power structures

  to rearrange.


it is time for a second Lemuria

   to create itself,

  one simmering caldera

       at a time. Examine the

volcanoes at the edge

 of the Cocos:

  it is as good a starting point as any.

 

 

 



© 2014 Marie Anzalone


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Featured Review

Gorgeous, such a brilliant use of metaphor and as always your voice is clear and striking to the soul... and this message, so relevant to things I have been thinking much on these days-- subjugation in its many forms... colonization, suppression, silencing... causing us to collapse inside until we explode, shift along fault lines to become something unrecognized... how does one, finally change thier world, finally become strong...

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

10 Years Ago

I wonder if we do not become strong by recognizing our own vulnerability? and working on our inabili.. read more



Reviews

i love how you're poetry can transduce, convert it's energy into something else, another cause perhaps.
And you do, as was mentioned, try to find peace even when peace begs to be qualified. I always
(always) get the impression that you are speaking for the plight of the downtrodden. It's a stance,
a structural polymerization where you combine the molicules of sympathy and protest to form
one larger reduplication of the parts of an organizm. In other words, you're a fighter my friend.
A poetic fighter who, in my world, is the most fierce fighters of them all.

well written.
dana

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

10 Years Ago

That you would consider me the spokesperson for anyone is one of the greatest compliments about my w.. read more
I love that you are always the peace keeper, life is so short, holding grudges only hurts ourselves....yesterday I was going to throw a fit and leave forever, lol, but when I got in here I realized that the petty crap that was going on in here is so not worth leaving the people I've fallen in love with here, i've been heartbroken for a time now, ex lovers of my love crawling over my toes, and I loved them, not knowing, being unaware of who and what they were doing , it dawned on me...as I came I don't care anymore, I just don't, cause I realize if they are being mean to me because I care for the same person they did or do , it just makes us both either a great judge of character or really bad ones but we are both in the same boat...lol, obviously have that same things in common, life is too short to sweat the small stuff, I fell in love with the very ones who were trying to hurt me, and I find that so ironically Christ like that it's hysterical. Yo never really know who a person is, you only know what-who they allow you to see, it's a waste of time trying to put a thumb on someone, if they care about you, they do and if they don't well, its sad, but they just don't, but i'm not leaving the ones who do care about me, just because i got my feeling hurt by bad people and i still think they have something love worthy in there obviously while they where being devious I came to care about them...so who is the real loser in that scenario? It makes me shake my head, but so what, I know who they are now and I don't really care if they like me, I cared for them and I still do , no matter how I got there... It is what it is.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

10 Years Ago

would love to know how it worked out... will be checking out the writing soon for clues
Corset

10 Years Ago

it's osculating, then teeters like a one sided seesaw, my butt keeps thumping on the ground...it's s.. read more
Corset

10 Years Ago

it's osculating, then teeters like a one sided seesaw, my butt keeps thumping on the ground...it's s.. read more

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Added on July 23, 2013
Last Updated on July 9, 2014

Peregrinating North-South Compass Points


Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, grant writer, editor, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to ta.. more..

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