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Chris Saitta May 17
I failed to love round, but fallen flat,
My head slumps down, over an ancient map,
My eyes roll back, over the mappa mundi verge,
Where waterfalls purl, and the sea serpent-sleep lies curled.
Mappa mundi are surviving Medieval maps of the world that often depicted sea monsters and dragons.  In spite of a common belief, most educated Medieval classes did not think the earth was flat (known as the Flat Earth myth) nor did most scholars from the classic Greek period on.  Similarly, no old world map contains the exact phrase “Here Be Dragons” to connote uncharted territories, though dragons and sea monsters often allegorically depicted the same.
Chris Saitta May 15
When she folds into me and weeps,
The world of empty things falls into me
Like the wetness of July in antiquated Rome,
Mother of tears, Mater Lachrymarum, in Forum stone,
The rain-addled veneers of Octavia’s portico.

Gather up these black sickened bellies of ruins,
Turn them out to make hunger the den of the skies,
Let the cracked whisper of each monument and temple
Breathe as Caesar, in unending stillness like a bare road.

A road is the sadness of seeing our beginning
But knowing love its far-off end is foretold.
Chris Saitta Jan 3
The scrimshaw of the air, the long whales-tooth of sunlight
Etched with seafarer’s care and his great wantonness for the sea,
A kiss as light as the bottlenose dolphin cresting from the water,
Then night undressed and falling down like sliding beads of watery stars
From the wet coriaceous porpoise skin and a tail of silver fire.
Coriaceous here means leather-like and rubbery
Chris Saitta Nov 2020
Snow is but listening silence,
Sent from our dark past,
Inaudible ghosts made visible
In the butterfly net of cold.
Chris Saitta Aug 2020
Sunset whispers to itself
~No time outlives time~
The meltemi winds crackle the wild millet,
Graze-feed upon the stalks of Greek plains,
The pelican scoops up the honeyed Aegean,
Waves of sunlit anise and almond in refrain,
Vestigial as the sweet persimmon from Egypt,
The hammered warmth from the flat anvil of Africa,
Sunset whispers to itself
~No time outlives time~
“Meltemi” are the dry northern winds that blow across the Aegean in summer
Chris Saitta Aug 2020
They said passing by me that they would put out their eyes,
The clouds did as they died across the battlefield,
As the gauzy horses stanched the wept blood,
As the thorns, gnats, and briers, wound into
A dove’s nest of bayonets and knives,
The clouds died in insurrection,
And the night breathed freely and the stars cleared the mud.
Reposting since I cannot see whether this posts or not.  No idea why this site is wonky again?
Chris Saitta Aug 2020
Love is not a maturation of voices to the more sublime,
But sotto voce, an undertow of groping intonations,
The sod of soil hearts cast across the reaping sea.
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