What is Ending by Jess Weitz

 

“What is Ending” by Jess Weitz

 

I.

morning sun
come my way
take my pain
down to the cool waters

lumbering into a shock of light
a brown earth form
grand emaciated mountain

dripping milk from black teets
sings the spring into being
while climbing through a slit in the rocks

two new forms in tow
a single body holding
exhaustion and power

moving between roots and tree tops
birthing through dreams
the brown bear emerges

 

II.

Start writing again she says

how can it be
just as muscle memory
is forming
around clay vessels
forged between my hands

Stop talking and write she insists

words tumble down
insistent raindrops
forming in the air
with my arms
holding the bucket
open upwards
to catch whole poems

Keep paper nearby

I awake in the darkest
point of night
inside a crocheted cocoon
yarn of words
encapsulating this body

listen to a whisper through the weft

 

III.

she tells the tale
of a tiny orange poison dart frog
ruinous leader that beacons creatures
to lick it’s back to inebriate hearts with its toxins

its croaking pings
inside our minds
as all creatures live
inside a single shared space
ever expanding
through the stars

but one sparrow need only flutter a wing to move a sandstorm
to obstruct the ruler’s cyclops eye to send him into the circling death march around his own green money jungle of madness

 

IV.

I listen peering through the west window
the wind’s airstream
dances over frozen waves
cascades across our dormant field

bare branch tentacles
a tethered land kelp sway
as gale gusts moan
through tree tops

dark voices careen
across this winter landscape
whip chattering thoughts
through my ears
mice nibbling at peace

 

V.

I recognize this ongoing tale
of toppled mountains
splayed upward
once serene
writhing now to right gravity

inside the mound
across three rocks
lies a once playful giant
spread open
tongue laying
to the side

outside on the dirt road
wisdom the size
of a human hand
hit by the speed
of change

my eyes caked in dirt
stare down
into the dark tilth
hearing the tick tock
clocks underground

 

VI.

fire like an ancient god
has reappeared to ravage realms
gobbling pavement
couch xbox cabinet

while ponderosa cones
burst open online
after cool ground
centuries

our furless forms
adapted to sheetrock
beg to curl
into a tardigrade tun

waiting out inside
rereading lines
in the good book
studying flood stories

 

VII.

time forever cycling
another tale of
spindled legs holding tight
to verdant grass

until picked off
by the elongated beak
of a blue grey heron

lifted above a sea
of mountainous swells
and dropping down down

into the depth’s darkness
tugged tattered torn
in jaws of translucent fish

until a skeleton emerges
on the ocean floor
dancing in sandy sound

flesh begins to adhere
bone claws fur
a cream colored bear forms
undulating in the swells

upward watery muscles
remember how to swim
into the breaking waves
lit by sun

 

____________________

Share your response to this work, in any form, here

 

Jess Weitz Artist Statement:

I am a neurodivergent, multi-disciplinary visual artist and writer living with chronic illness, in Marlboro, Vermont. My artistic practice encompasses photography, painting, found object sculpture, writing, and ceramics, often blending these mediums in innovative ways.

My ceramics and paintings are inspired by the local landscape, incorporating found plant and soil materials to create pigments, slips, and glazes. Driven by a deep connection to place (topophilia), my process intertwines the visual and poetic aspects of memory. I have also self-published two books of poetry with artwork, and have two books and an installation of multi-genre nonfiction writing and artwork forth coming.

What does it feel like to be alive? I want to speak from the inside out – inside the mountain, creating an artifact of authenticity. I use different writing and art forms to express different facets of my experience. My magnetic river is flowing with my experience as a single organism in a divine whole. My tributaries of interest are Jungian psychology, Buddhist philosophy, black feminist thinkers like Audre Lorde, curiosity about suffering and illness, in our own bodies and on the earth body. I feel challenges can open us to deeper truths.

Author: A Room of Her Own

Share This Post On