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This corner is a reference to a description I once used in an attempt to explain where these poems come from. "It's as if I'm hit upside the head with a brick!" The ideas seem to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I am merely a medium and the words pass through me, it seems. Usually they come to me in a brief flash so fast I have great difficulty keeping up. Very much like the scene in Amadeus when Mozart is on his death bed dictating to Salieri; this impatient demonic voice pushing me but my hand is incapable of writing as fast as the information is thrown at me. The poems I have written are very similar in origin, only worse. It's as if I'm watching a two hour feature film for the first time - at an incredibly accelerated speed. I'm fortunate if I'm able to get an outline on paper before I loose the entire vision. Frustrating and exhilarating at the same time! So, if you're still interested, click on a title below and read on. There's a place for your comments at the end. Don't be shy, I like the feedback. I already think I suck, so it's not as if you could hurt the one feeler I have left with confirmatory remarks.
| (21)City | (22)Water And Dust |
| (23)In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance | (24)Fragrance Of Ghosts |
| (25)Yet Another Definition of Love | (26)Wings of Freedom |
| (27)Enivrez-Vous | (28)All Smiles |
I want to melt into
the anonymity of the city,
my face among a hundred thousand
like a tiny gnat
in the chaos of insects
swarming around the lights
of a ball park in high summer.
My voice drowns in the ocean
of laughter and complaints,
the curses of the angry
and songs of the joyous
all are so common
and my lone voice
will not be heard to quiver
and my one face
will not be seen to frown.
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
When I was water,
I fell through clouds, blundered over cliffs,
pretended to rest in pools below the falls,
let gravity pull me oceanward,
the sun lift me to fall again.
When I was a human
I wanted to walk everywhere on this Earth
where feet of men had never left a print before,
to head always for the next wilderness beyond
the last frontier. Direction: northwest; altitude: higher.
Wanted to enter the darkened theater of a forest,
blend as a fresh actor with the ripe scenery at stage center.
Wanted to blaze a trail over lake waters with my paddle,
pull up on a rock-covered beach,
walk wide ways up easy slopes, and better,
use fingers, elbows, knees, and toes to hoist to the top
of every cliff and find new meadows there.
On buttes and their sides I would lie down
with grass, moss, columbines and yew trees,
roam with elk and chipmunks, range with eagles.
When I am dust,
I will wander over the whole globe of my homestead,
embrace the cliffs, dance in the deserts,
touch the gowns of all the trees I've missed.
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
In the broken season of her farewell dance
she tramples on the meatless bones of time
Every word of the south's deep-fried bloom
trickling through biers of iries
& down the chins of hydrangeas
Of the unabashed rumbling
(she knows nothing)
the heartburn of wood on lipless rock
kissing the silent sea
sucking the grease of the eternal
Can you ponder without language?
can you feel without words?
can you love without demand?
The south flapping its wings in her cottom
get-up
(smiling beneath the folklore of the moon)
it is the broken season of her farewell dance
crackling like dry leaves in fire
in the cleavage of hard-baked crops
i hear her pleated voice
everywhere
Fragile clutching its virginity
in the palms of pines
& the hymen of jargons suckled on well-mooned
moonshine
ancient stories spawned from the umber earth
(father's corn sprung from the clay
his hands the color of bark
ripe & without even rain)
& mother's thorny rose
that unfurls when the river rises
to meet the old gray ghost
(i have seen him twice)
Finally the drip drip drip of yellow water on brown enamel
(there is so much work to be done)
that sleepless crack in the wall through which the
draft whispers
cold
secrets
(there is so much work to be done)
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
In the white woods,
there is the ghost of a lily,
invisible but for the imperfect memory,
the loud infant begging for milk,
the fallen born again on a beard of frost
which has faced these fields
when they were more than white,
when their fragrance was a breeze
not yet passed into longing.
Pushed up from a buried road,
the lily shines somehow a dot in snow,
or a white-hot sun to snowmen in too deep
to see their feet.
Cold trappers who linger here catch themselves
just before they fall.
Snow-blind beasts without
stalls sleep here on their feet,
their nostril smoking,
stealing an eastern scent
from past and future wind they sway between.
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
Love is a divine peace,
A blessing from the Heavens,
Love is the epitomy of happiness,
Meant to be meticulously nurtured forever.
Love is sensuous,
A magical door leading to surreal treasure,
Love is the absence of selfishness,
Ideally devoid of all self-pleasure.
Love is a lesson in tolerance,
To eagerly forgive the mistakes of the other,
Love is limitless compassion,
The burning desire for another.
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
If I were a bird,
I'd be free,
I would spread my wings
And flee.
If I were a bird,
I'd teach you to fly,
So we could fly away,
Far away from reality.
If I were a bird,
You could follow me,
Across the stretches of oceans
And over the deep blue sea.
If we were birds,
We could soar over the land,
Our wings would majestically flap,
As we flew over the sand.
Sadly, we are not birds.
We have to live our lives in reality,
Even if that entails living,
Living in abject misery.
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
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Il faut 괲e toujours ivre. Tout est l#060;BR> c'est l'unique question. Pour ne pas sentir l'horrible fardeau du Temps qui brise vos 鰡ules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer sans tr궥. Mais de quoi? De vin, de po鳩e, ou de vertu, ࠶otre guise. Mais enivrez-vous. Et si quelquefois, sur les marches d'un palais, sur l'herbe verte d'un foss鬦#060;BR> dans la solitude morne de votre chambre, vous vous r鶥illez, l'ivresse d骠 diminu饠ou disparue, demandez au vent, ࠬa vague, ࠬ'鴯ile, ࠬ'oiseau, ࠬ'horloge, ࠴out ce qui fuit, ࠴out ce qui g魩t, ࠴out ce qui roule, ࠴out ce qui chante, ࠴out ce qui parle, demandez quelle heure il est; et le vent, la vague, l'鴯ile, l'oiseau, l'horloge, vous r鰯ndront: "Il est l'heure de s'enivrer! Pour n'괲e pas les esclaves martyris鳠du Temps, enivrez-vous; enivrez-vous sans cesse! De vin, de po鳩e ou de vertu, ࠶otre guise." |
Always be drunk. That's it! The great imperative! In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way. On what? On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk. And if you sometimes happen to wake up on the porches of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the dismal loneliness of your own room, your drunkenness gone or disappearing, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, ask everything that flees, everything that groans or rolls or sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you: "Time to get drunk! Don't be martyred slaves of Time, Get drunk! Stay drunk! On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!" |
[City] [Water And Dust] [In The Broken Season Of Her Farewell Dance] [Fragrance Of Ghosts] [Yet Another Definition of Love] [Wings of Freedom] [Enivrez-Vous] [All Smiles]
The smile portrays visions of happiness,
Of fullfilment and peace.
Bitter memories of suffering begin to melt,
Leaving my mind at ease.
The barriers once fencing off my thoughts,
Fall apart in rapid decay;
I feel happy as I jog the mile;
My world is reorganising again,
I can't help it,
I have to smile.
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