The Liminal Hymns by Anais Chartschenko

The Liminal Hymns
The Liminal Hymns Cover

The Liminal Hymns sing the story of moments between, leaving certainties to embrace doubt. Liminal spaces are explored through examinations of mythology, philosophy, and religion. With sardonic shots of whiskey and wit, this collection delves into the sensory and psychological kaleidoscope of the human condition.

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The Liminal Hymns: Excerpt 1

 

Over

Sympathy is not settling
Although settling can be
Fine, fine in the finest sense
Of the word, grand or okay,
Sure.
Stretching over canvas, the
Exchange over wine, one
Kiss can lead to another or
Raised eyebrows-what were
We thinking, we should just
Be friends, fine? Fine.
Sifting through pictures, one
Can settle on an age, consider
Were you happy then or was
Happiness a veil over a tearful
Bride, tearful for reasons she
Cannot define. Definitions can
Be tricky and according to the
Dictionary change over
Time.

 
Not Just Jacob

Do you forgive me?
I spent so much time
In anger back then
That I couldn’t
Appreciate your
Pacifism-
I wanted to dole
Out my own old
Testament fire
Burn the bridges
To the rivers
That half drowned
Me baptized in
Words and deeds
By those who
Would point the finger
At the sinner who
Was me
But over the years
I watched the
Smoke blossom
Into memories
That rolled along
With the clouds
Till I could be
Left alone in
My misery. In
The sun I was
Something else
I wrestled with
My shadow until
The day had passed
And at last
I decided to be
Done with them
Their words
Their deeds
Keyword
Theirs
But me,
Swinging at
Shadow and
Sometimes hitting
You
That was all me
And I’m sorry

 
The Revival of You

The Liminal Hymns: Excerpt 2

Last Inhibition

Show me the hall of the
Weary, trudging toward
A place to hang their hats
Show me a velvet cross
Road, with gravel cast
Grass back. Deliver me
Your observation, infuse
It with honey and wine
Bring me to the alter of
Discovery and I promise
I will uncover mine. A
Slender blade of hope
Shivering on a vein, give
Me your voice rasped
Against the edges of
Consciousness, sing me
Past the powerless lines
Memories can move in
All directions, can trip
Like a wire to explode,
Give me your tip toed
Curiosity with delicate
Incision. I will peel back
My cloak for your close
Inspection, if you ask
I will say yes

 
Mason Jar

Is it so bad
If we do this
Things could
Rot but still
They could if
We don’t just
Look at the
Pantry, there
He sat saying
We can’t touch
The jars for nothing
Not until the trumpet
Sounds the end of the
World the end of our
Hearts dug out of our
Chests that’s a weird
Time to save canned food
For, but anyways, alarm
Clocks, bunkers, one burner
Stoves, they all recall things
Can be planned for even if
The thing is a mythical fear
And the only thing that comes
Of it is fifty years of vinegar
Brine down at the dump
So
We could do this
Lean in to water
Then wine
Find ourselves in each other
Or at the least
Have a good time

 

Anais ChartschenkoAuthor Bio:

Anaïs Chartschenko hails from the Canadian wilderness. She has come to enjoy such modern things as electric tea kettles.

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Books by Anais Chartschenko:

Bright Needles
The Whisper Collector
The Weightless One
Perfect Break
The Liminal Hymns

Anais Chartschenko Books

 

Music by Anais Chartschenko:

Howling at the Moon: Live from my Living Room
Codex: Live from my Living Room Vol II
The Liminal Hymns: Live from my Living Room Vol III 
Immigration

  

Black Powder

 

 

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