The Sacred Calendar
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About this ebook
The Mayan Calendar called the Cholq’ij [in K’che’ language (Tzolkin in Yucatan Mayan language)] is an amazing work of accuracy and precision. Its exact origins are debatable although I think it may be the creation of the Mixtec Indians of the Oaxaca region. In 1996 I flew to Mexico for what was supposed to be a two week vacation. I first went to Bacalar in the Yucatan but soon moved to Oaxaca. I spent time later in Chiapas (mostly Palenque and San Cristóbal de las Casas) and Guatemala. Seeing the great pyramids in Tikal, Guatemala was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I was quite sick upon arrival and was having terrible bouts of diarrhea as I was walking the path to Temple No. 4. I was in the middle of bout of watery bowel movement in a quiet part of the rainforest. I was squatting, sweating, moaning and looking down. I had noticed before how Dung Beetles materialize out of nowhere when you leave a dump. I was watching for them, deeply trying to survive the pain. My neck was craned and hurt so I looked up and there it was: Temple Four -- the amazing temple that towers over the rainforest -- peeking its head out over the Ceiba trees. I finished my business and ran to it. Soon I was on top of it looking down over the rainforest. Then the strangest thing happened. I took a nap. I dreamed of Kings and Glyphs. The Mayan bug had bitten me. I spent the next few years living in Mexico and Guatemala, working for a newspaper company. I visited all the sacred sites I could and met curanderos, shaman, storytellers, linguists, and girlfriends. I learned from all of them. My awe for the temples and for the calendar has never died down. These poems are an attempt to express some of that awe.
Ralph-Michael Chiaia
Ralph, born in New York City in 1975, is a novelist and poet. He was a journalist for a number of years before becoming a florist and then a University Instructor. Now he runs a pub in Seoul, South Korea. He has published hundreds of poems and short stories online and in print in various mediums such as newspapers, magazines, and journals in a number of countries from Mexico to Long Island to Singapore. He was previously dubbed an experimental novelist (a tag which is not a perfect fit) and "a trip-hoppy visionary of language" (Lo Galluccio, writer). He speaks English, Spanish, and some Korean. He lives in Seoul with his son and his mother.
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The Sacred Calendar - Ralph-Michael Chiaia
it is the hump of the beast's back in the reeds
the swamp grass growing toward the moon
and stars
it is the silence of the water, unmoving,
it is the luminous fish egg eye just over the water
it is before the water
from the three sacred hearthstones
in the sky
it is the water, the slop,
it is the sludge soup it crawled from,
turning beast.
it is the beginning
of all things
of time itself
it is the first sign
different from whatever was
the original mirror of something not same
that made things
that made something from nothing
it is the first day
it is
One Crocodile
I, younger beast, stand here on its back
younger in an exponential way
that I am a comma buried on a line or a page of a book
lost in a gigantic library
I tell myself the crocodile is peacefully asleep
yet know it can devour me
any time
crawl back into the soup
martyred suicide
buck suddenly and toss me back into what wasn't
dunk my head in
hold me there
me sub, crocodile domme
first great step of matter
first notch of Haab & Tzolkin
first dawn of day
first blink of eye
the Crocodile, the Infant, the Self
~~~
Two Wind
The Maya don’t trust the wind,
do you?
the tension
the kidneys barking
like a starved dog on a starry night.
I can't breathe in deep
body is soft
neurons are fickle, tenuous
at the first site of Ixchel
close to another man
the wind rips into me
my brain becomes a conch shell to my ear
reason scatters pollen
seminates anger, anguish
the pyramids at Xbalanke have T-shaped windows
the sign of the wind
Ts cut into limestone walls
beckon the sacred breath
lure in this raw power
but