The Argotist Online
I grew up enveloped in the arts.
My father read my brother and I ancient stories before slumber and I heard my
mother sing arias upon awakening. Music and myth are where much of my
inspiration arises. The rest comes from nature and my experiential and emotional
well. Writing is a resting place for me. It is also a safe place for me to dream
unveiled, placate pins and needles and scream sordid secrets. I share my life
with Sitka, one well-named and well-fed cat. I enjoy the works of Neil Young,
Kate Bush, Leonor Fini, Edward Gorey, Michael Parkes, Emily Dickinson, John C.
Gardner, Carl Theodor Dryer and Terry Gilliam who glimmer among countless
others. I enjoy a good red wine, strong coffee and contagious laughter. I am so
very happy to be here.
from the Editor
above was written by Rachel Lisi in 2005, when I put her poems on this site. In
2010 she died, a couple of days before her 40th birthday. I had known Rachel
since 2003, though only online. However, we developed a friendship via email
that lasted until her death. Among her talents was photography, which she had a
particular passion for, and in 2007 she did a marvellously haunting cover photograph for
my poetry ebook, Carrier of the Seed; and also two ebook cover designs for Argotist Ebooks, which
she did during the last year of her life. She was working on a third cover shortly
before her death.
website, Kundavega (sadly no longer online), included her photography
is part of her introduction to the site:
name is Rachel Lisi. This small corner of cyber space allows me to share
different things with you. For some time I have been following the crafts of
photography and poetry finding many hills and valleys along the way. I am still
trying to find the right path, but surrendering to the guidance of the day and
night and every turn of my imagination. As always, I continue to evolve and
learn within this circle of creating.
For many years she was an active member of the Kate Bush fan forum, Homeground, which is how I came to meet her. There is a thread there noting her passing, which can be seen here. Also, there are two Live Journal blogs she kept that are still online. One for herself and one for a small press she was planning to start. They can be found here and here. Also still online is a Tumblr blog she kept for her photography, which can be found here. And a Facebook tribute group for her can be found here.
Over the years she had been a loyal and supportive friend to me, and I feel privileged to have known her. I will always remember her.
Queens of Dark Suns
DIFFERENT KIND OF GOLD RUSH
pages in rustling attic leaves
a haunting here
spoken, but the breezed silence.
sifting through Grandma's things
coming to an understanding
Grandma was a woman once, a girl, an infant,
fetus - perhaps unwanted.
flowers for journal entries turned dustied mold
the day turns
the day turns
the day turns
that could not be told within wrinkled folds
long ago - lost comb with rusted teeth and ancient topaz,
of a now gone life before the world war
that indigo jazz
the red-washed beach
the bullet and bloodied razzmatazz
ghosts waltz their way in and out of stained pages
images of sepia-ed ages
granddaughter's honeyed braids
the shades of decades
chill still dancing like the rain
with the weight of water
fire and milk and rose petal slaughter
were of dead lovers
never got over grandma, but died well in love)
were of aunties
to Madonna, Baba Yaga, the old man above)
of a dog
and found on the tracks half-dead)
of a cat
and blind with a penchant for the sun-drenched bed)
am not sleeping, but I do dream silently
to the child up there sifting - looking for me
different kind of Gold Rush
that has remained hush-hush
that will push us gently
us gently into the riches that only
and the trees and the sea can understand.
down upon the king of cities.
tickle trust daring a
into the chaotic brew.
if they catch you.
with haze into the clouds.
heed of the angels' sing song laugh.
has been frayed,
the holy at bay.
eyed wild world,
waiting for the exhale.
with the lawless divine
on the universal spine.
on and flayed
need for vincristine
is a tell
on a fire
auld grimalkin's vox
the Iroquois play Zydeco
diatribes and dissonance
and blues and arrows
fox prays well with lugworm
he smells the Jessamine
the light of her moon
© Rachel Lisi