Our first Set In Sound video production

Words & soundscape by M. Leona Godin
Photos & visionscape by Todd Jackson

I Will Never Be Sorry
M. Leona Godin 2012

I see that jagged desert, encircled by horizon,
Topped with that great dome of exalted blue heavens above:
And I will never be sorry
To have felt those frozen hands that burn to thaw
Or that lovely cool sliver of a moon.

That great lost love that blazed so quick, and look! There’s another one shone!
And I will never be sorry
To have seen your face, to have loved it with spit and fire.

And I will never be sorry to have seen those fucking butterflies-
Literally fucking butterflies – falling from the sky
(It’s hard to fly when you’re fucking)
So you drop
Into the hand of one who will never be sorry she saw you
Drop dancing into the palm of her and danced till you darted apart.

Up and away into that close slab of sky,
Chipped away by those eucalyptuses, um eucalypti??
O whatever they are called; they do not belong there;
Those Australian trees on a Santa Cruz,
Find the monarchs from god only knows where
That impossible grove with accessible walks and its stupid visitors hut,
Winds that might yet blow it all away..

On that ocean sit those natural bridges,
Carved out by a thousand years of pounding
Had I, like them, energy enough and time,
I would never ever ever be sorry.

A Pain Named Dog

i have given a name to my pain and call it dog
i can tell it to sit, lay down, roll over play dead,
i scold it and shame it and pretend it’s my bitch!
and though it worries my carcass and growls and shits
It gives me a leg up… on profundity!

i have given a name to my beauty and call it snake
i observe it wind my hand, delicate as flowers, ferocious as fangs
i tell it: “Pulse danger! swallow blind mice!”
and though its little murders do not ripple the still-watered universe,
it’s all about ego, feeling groovy..

i have given a name to my anger and call it cockroach
i fatten it with booze and candy; it waxes petty and cruel
i chase it to squash it, curse its very existence
But because it incites war in the bowels of men,
It does me some good, keeps them in check.

i have given a name to my disease and call it devil
sad devil, mean spirited, jealous, and cruel
I know the fiend called devil is the blindness called life,
Still I shout hazah! with the rest:
It appeases. Why not?

I have given a name to my sadness and call it god
i tell it: “You are dead. Long live you?”
i command, “Sit! Stay! Roll over – at least fucking play dead!”
And though it is just as obtrusive, entertaining and shameless as any other god
thankfully there are others. I pray.

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