| Just Once poems by Jamie Parsley |
This Stigmata
None of them had this stigmata—
not one of those doe-eyed darlings
who cooed their pious love and swayed
into violent ecstasy like beautiful mystical
Camilles.
They were content with their bloody shows—
putting even the slaughterhouse sows
to shame, who went complacently to
their triduums even when their bellies
were sliced open and their watery juices
gushed out.
This stigmata—
restrained and uncertain—
is so much cleaner. The juices
are clear, the heat of passion
quiet and…reserved in a Protestant
sort of way.
And so much closer to those actual pains,
that extreme anxiety that brought on not
the nails and thorns, but sweat—
ugly and like blood, but not blood
or any other sort of gore. It was
instead the passion of stung eyes,
of a face not hidden by a turned-away back,
as Moses strained after, but revealed
in a clear glistening sheen, brighter
than any celestial glow.
This stigmata is not secretive, hidden
behind fingerless gloves or a visored nun’s
veil.
This stigmata is the divine likeness
revealed and glorified—
unashamedly faced and gloried in.
None of them had this stigmata—
not one of those doe-eyed darlings
who cooed their pious love and swayed
into violent ecstasy like beautiful mystical
Camilles.
They were content with their bloody shows—
putting even the slaughterhouse sows
to shame, who went complacently to
their triduums even when their bellies
were sliced open and their watery juices
gushed out.
This stigmata—
restrained and uncertain—
is so much cleaner. The juices
are clear, the heat of passion
quiet and…reserved in a Protestant
sort of way.
And so much closer to those actual pains,
that extreme anxiety that brought on not
the nails and thorns, but sweat—
ugly and like blood, but not blood
or any other sort of gore. It was
instead the passion of stung eyes,
of a face not hidden by a turned-away back,
as Moses strained after, but revealed
in a clear glistening sheen, brighter
than any celestial glow.
This stigmata is not secretive, hidden
behind fingerless gloves or a visored nun’s
veil.
This stigmata is the divine likeness
revealed and glorified—
unashamedly faced and gloried in.
Just Once can be found at LoonfeatherPress.com, B&N.com, Amazon.com and in your local bookstore. Purchase Info: Title – JUST ONCE Paperback- 91 pages List Price- $ 12.95 + $2.00 s&h Publisher- Loonfeather Press ISBN- 0926147-49-8 LOONFEATHER PRESS P.O. Box 1212 Bemidji, Minnesota 56619 www.loonfeatherpress.com |
Thursday in the Fourth Week of Lent
With the hormone balance of a
pregnant woman comes
the nausea, the metallic tastes
haunting the mouth, the repulsion
to food, to lingering scents.
For years I sympathized with the
pregnant. I sorrowed for their pale
faces, their squeezed expressions. The
body changed. It grew, forming
something hard and rotund, then failed.
It was left exhausted and elastic. Then
it begin again with a vigor I could not
at the time comprehend. Now more
than empathy. A shared experience—
like stigmata, only bloodless
and with nothing to
culminate into except a
perpetually uncertain recovery.
With the hormone balance of a
pregnant woman comes
the nausea, the metallic tastes
haunting the mouth, the repulsion
to food, to lingering scents.
For years I sympathized with the
pregnant. I sorrowed for their pale
faces, their squeezed expressions. The
body changed. It grew, forming
something hard and rotund, then failed.
It was left exhausted and elastic. Then
it begin again with a vigor I could not
at the time comprehend. Now more
than empathy. A shared experience—
like stigmata, only bloodless
and with nothing to
culminate into except a
perpetually uncertain recovery.
When acclaimed poet Jamie Parsley was diagnosed with cancer at age 32, he did the only
thing he could do as a poet—he “funneled and processed these experiences into these
poems.” As he writes in his introduction to the book:
No was more amazed than me by the rate with which these poems came… Certainly, this diagnosis
was one of those moments in my life in which “the devil”—that personification of every fear and
darkness—had in fact taken me by the throat and shook me. And I was ready for it in ways that
surprised and startled me.
In a rush of kinetic energy, Parsley wrote these almost daily poems as a way of making
sense of his illness, diagnosis and treatment. The full range of emotions and styles are
contained here: raw and frightened, rage-filled and tender, lyrical and breathless, rough-
hewn and experimental. However the poems never descend into self-pity nor do they cry
out in with an anguished sense of unfairness. They simply face the situations as they
happen with full- frontal honesty and strength.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just Once is Jamie Parsley’s odyssey through illness—cancer—recorded blow by
emotional blow. The lucky thing is he makes it to shore safely and can share his
experience with others. His is a remarkable recovery told in a remarkable way, covering
the “agonizing exodus” from health into cancer’s “counterfeit art,” through mornings
which “crack to pieces” until, at the end, the poet can say, “Look how the dusk--//full of
clouds and gloom--//has dissolved into// multitudes of stars.” His new- found love
and joy in being alive carries hope for us all.
Sharon Chmielarz, author of The Rhubarb King
Just Once is a deeply moving, sacred journey through the layers of an illness so many of
us dread—cancer. The poems move deftly and painfully through the recognition, the
denial, the numbness, the scraping away, the reorganizing of the flesh one calls one's self,
and the ultimate surrender of this self when one realizes to whom and what one's body
really belongs. Or, as Jamie Parsley would say it: "the guttymuck of humanity washed
away to pure brilliance."
Phyllis Barber, author of How I Got Cultured
The lyric gift in Just Once is so abundantly apparent it seems a betrayal to mention subject
matter. Jamie Parsley has a wonderful ear for the sounds of poetry and an unerring sense
of a poem's arc. These poems have life and breath, and an urgency that transcends even
their subject—a year in the life of a young man and the diagnosis and treatment of his
cancer.
Natasha Sajé, author of Red Under the Skin
thing he could do as a poet—he “funneled and processed these experiences into these
poems.” As he writes in his introduction to the book:
No was more amazed than me by the rate with which these poems came… Certainly, this diagnosis
was one of those moments in my life in which “the devil”—that personification of every fear and
darkness—had in fact taken me by the throat and shook me. And I was ready for it in ways that
surprised and startled me.
In a rush of kinetic energy, Parsley wrote these almost daily poems as a way of making
sense of his illness, diagnosis and treatment. The full range of emotions and styles are
contained here: raw and frightened, rage-filled and tender, lyrical and breathless, rough-
hewn and experimental. However the poems never descend into self-pity nor do they cry
out in with an anguished sense of unfairness. They simply face the situations as they
happen with full- frontal honesty and strength.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just Once is Jamie Parsley’s odyssey through illness—cancer—recorded blow by
emotional blow. The lucky thing is he makes it to shore safely and can share his
experience with others. His is a remarkable recovery told in a remarkable way, covering
the “agonizing exodus” from health into cancer’s “counterfeit art,” through mornings
which “crack to pieces” until, at the end, the poet can say, “Look how the dusk--//full of
clouds and gloom--//has dissolved into// multitudes of stars.” His new- found love
and joy in being alive carries hope for us all.
Sharon Chmielarz, author of The Rhubarb King
Just Once is a deeply moving, sacred journey through the layers of an illness so many of
us dread—cancer. The poems move deftly and painfully through the recognition, the
denial, the numbness, the scraping away, the reorganizing of the flesh one calls one's self,
and the ultimate surrender of this self when one realizes to whom and what one's body
really belongs. Or, as Jamie Parsley would say it: "the guttymuck of humanity washed
away to pure brilliance."
Phyllis Barber, author of How I Got Cultured
The lyric gift in Just Once is so abundantly apparent it seems a betrayal to mention subject
matter. Jamie Parsley has a wonderful ear for the sounds of poetry and an unerring sense
of a poem's arc. These poems have life and breath, and an urgency that transcends even
their subject—a year in the life of a young man and the diagnosis and treatment of his
cancer.
Natasha Sajé, author of Red Under the Skin
