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    The Sacred Calendar
    The Sacred Calendar
    The Sacred Calendar
    Ebook87 pages23 minutes

    The Sacred Calendar

    By Ralph-Michael Chiaia

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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.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRalph-Michael Chiaia
    Release dateJun 3, 2013
    ISBN9781301905515
    The Sacred Calendar
    Author

    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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      Book preview

      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

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