Anomie

Anomie (13 June 2007)

the winds sighs the songs of melancholia
the dimming light of winter heralds the maudlin dusk
this season of discontentedness
clings like beads of moisture to window pane
outside denuded trees stand naked, autumnal leaves jam gutters
these famous gales whistle
the rain is a ballerina across the room
& we are lost in anomie.

Mt Victoria Poem I

the bungalows are bathed in late afternoon love
the sun is the best seductrix
she is warm, enveloping and reasonably predictable
the somnolence and the sofa
& all that is missing is you
there is comfort in the wooden grandeur of the architecture
solace in the golden silence of autumn's afternoon

Laptop Seduction

I was lying in bed thinking about you
I had vowed to try and sleep
--the gravitational pull was too strong
the laptop is no surrogate (your keys are softer and more responsive).
I just want to snuggle up next to you
feel the warm imprint of your body
and listen to the deepness of your breathing
& come to you in the ink of sleep like an incubus.
Feel the rhythmic rising and falling of your diaphragm
the breathy exhalations you make
I am envious of the oxygen which is drawn deep inside you.

Love Strikes Again

Somehow, miraculous, your soft tendrils find my gnarled roots
and encourage me to start breathing this heady oxygen mix
my feet are wet with expectation
the moment you sidled up to me and gently nudged my tummy
grinning
that was the moment the lightning struck and fused us
the moment when a disbeliever became a prophet
& the world was shimmering with the silver of possibility.

Deliquiscence

Deliquiescent one,
you are right about her
each small travesty is showing me more
bibulous public confessions show
the disingenuity of each and every little past declaration:
you are woman, she is not even comparable
you are water on my tongue; a pure sustenance.

My longing is a river pregnant with flood
I would gladly drink a torrent of you, unspluttering
& disseminate the idea of us
deep with the walls of your unquenched well
to assuage memories of an arid desert that held me captive
So, allow me to catch the dewy sadness from your eyelashes
to lick dry the river delta gushing down your face
& let us listen to the rain over our conjugal bed.

Wilted Atropine (time differences)

belladonna, o deadly nightshade
are you like Atropos
who choses how we die
well, in these early morning hours
full of half-lives, assignations and irresolvable questions
I delve into the pool of your eyes
nightswimming, happily drowning
marking time with you, every second I am willing submit
flailing, flailing
falling, fawning
entertaining such flights of fantasy and idiocies unimaginable
in the time before you
just to sit with you, water's edge to feel your pulse quickening
waiting for the right time
waiting for the real time
waiting for the next time and the last time
I just like to watch your clock ticking; these time differences.

Stretch Out and Wait

Lover most exquisite,
if i dress you, it is because I have the eye of aesthete
and staring out at your girded flesh comforts me
that the tremulousness is held by the sheen
of silks and nylons, that desire has some soft boundaries

Lover most delicious
if I feast upon with the ravenous glare of one
with unquenchable hungers
it is not to make you quiver and shudder without compensation
but to celebrate the music running through your skin
and to play your body with virtuosity and verve.

Lover most ravishable
if I plunder your borders and storm your capitals by force
it is because invasion shows you at your most beautiful
stretched out and waiting, the rapturousnes of your surrender
encourages my incursions, your willing capture affirms you as mine

Strange Love

strange love walks so gracile in fishnetted legs
the top of the thigh, a capital of suspense
this, Sir, is suggestability.

strange love lies spent and shackled at the foot of the bed
the silken ties that bind, the aroma of surrender
this, Miss, is what awaits you a foreign sun.

Imagining you

--for kat

swimming in the azure pools of your eyes
bathing as radiant as the ruler of some conquered territory
I imagine you

in the tensile grip of hungry, wanton hands
the imperious grasp of grace and form as if clamped
I imagine you

the imprest of leather on the alabaster white
the seering red reminding you who covets you
I imagine you

the slither of silken ropes draped around limbs
the jangling of cold steel & contraint
I imagine you

the epiphanic arching of your back, the joyous curvature of spine
the pleasures that rifle through
this is how I imagine you

Your Body as a Canvas

I imagine your body as a canvas
wrapped taut and true around your bones
as you kneel before me, pliantly
my glorious pillow book.
across you, smeared the brushstrokes of trailing fingers
and the hot seering hands warming your flesh
& like a painter, I work with a palette of hues and colours
red, mauve, vermillion, tinctures of purple
for this is forbidden love
a love that shuns publicity, but cries for attention
a mere hint
a kind of rapturousness that neither of us has to silence
& which whimpering, whispers my name.
Posted 56 minutes ago. ( permalink | delete | edit

Use Your Disability

I do not see your passions defined or bound
by the whirring wheels of your chair
just a cradle for the same stock standard covetousness
we all lament in the most troublesome hours
& something to tie down to ( in a more truculence phase)
to shock your mother
and declare your sexuality to be alivened
everybit a women, a man
use your disability
& I will wheel you away, happy at this corruption.

Berlin

I sat on your bed
tracing the map of Berlin
a sorcerer remembering a warm spell of warm favour
though the Zoologischer Gardens and Tiergarten
and winding, wending along the banks of Spree
to a time that feels so long ago & amid the tyranny
of nostalgia, I reached out for it and it eluded
so I lay on your bed and you listened to my restlessness
like a child with a teller of stories

The Laws of Sanctimony

those who seem too eager to scourge you
claim your crown of thorns
& define for themselves the Laws of Sanctimony
with their silk white piety and garrulousness on the subject of holiness
the self-righteousness comes like a choir of angels
to sing the hymns of your ruin
to chart & catalogue every one of your very human failings
as if they themselves were guardians of an unblemished soul
well, you won't find me casting stones
At least I know I am a sinner, and confess my sins to you openly
& pride is the least amongst these but how quickly you rushed to discard me.

Ayuda !

Help me, I am dying
my throat is closing and every breathe is laboured
my head is a drug-addled fog & I may not greet the sunrise
tell them I am sorry--I only tried to be human
this line is my exitus, I can encourage them no longer
& they will only smile knowingly on the news of my swift death
only remember the unending hopelessness of my romanticism.

Bucuresti

Bucuresti

Dust, heat and inescapible stickiness
this is what your words surrender
purging the snake oil sellers through your poor
the stuccato clamour echoes down the line
I can almost translate the sounds of madness.

Your bronze and Dacian skin beads
with warm orbs of ambivalence
touchstrokes quiver--[you are safe at a distance]
I can only imagine you & this perfection remains
it is only my reluctance to face reality which preserves you pristine
I acknowledgemy idiocy openly!

Drop Dead Gorgeous

I will remember you as fired by brightly colours
the rainbow's kaleidescope wll evermore be enjoined to you
as my offering to inventiveness and originality
I can only kiss your wrist, head-bowed reverently.

You will always be chameleonic
the infusion of riotous colour will always be your signature tune
just as we shared the cup of satire & carnivalesque
& this fey love of emblazoned endings

Daniela, every word I sprinkle over your hands
is a shower from a painter's palette and a photographer's eye
I pray each sentence will shine phosphorecent
when you and I are detained for not taking life too seriously
so first, let me salute you, and then let us drink.

If I gifted you a bridge in the height of Summer.... would you meet me underneath it?

I offer the sunsetting glimpse of opportunities unsung the bleached white marrow of uncertainty & all the Hungarian wine I have in the larder Oh, and me. I will wait for you under the glow of Szchenyi Hid and watch the circumlocution of traffic pass under the Buda Hills I will scribble the address on a postcard so if you want me, you know which door I lurk behind. -

A Tale of a Train Wreck Foretold

It is it really so unexpected to see this runaway locomotive
lurching toward danger; derailing after a few short weeks
after trundling along the treacherous tracks humans have laid
I would like to be more affirmative; answer you unequivocally
but I fear signal failure.

All the railway can offer you is inconstancy and eye witness reports
of the latest smash--veering cliffward
So these reservations are articulated because
I just cannot see a man and a woman ever coupled in tandem
at the very least you will need patience and fortitude

Isn't it better for you to avoid trains altogether
(It is I who likes them!)
if all I forsee is wreckage and twisted steel strewn trackside
[all my trains collide]
if you careen past this point--all the warning bells and barricades
forgive me if I disavow your imminent derailment
so I implore you:
take the bus!

Pharmacology

This prescription is you
sweet & elicit drug you issue me
Oh, such spendoured side effects
(I have been grinning for days, now).
Bliss straight through my veins
& you have the temerity to express surprise....
This trembling addiction
blessed pharmacology--so I offer you my arms
use me----for medical science &
your most wanton desires.

Halo

Your shimmering crown:
you rule this empire with every swirl of your mouth
this dominion is yours in every insistent finger
it is not often I prostrate myself at altars
alabaster and creamy; the tabernacle of you lit at once
by halo
emitting such light, my only recourse is to look away
the light which seers my eyes and fires my soul.

Poor Imitation

Hope is the fuel of dreams
so langourous, covetous arms cradle a pillow
so tenderly to evoke you
this lesson I have learnt:
pillows make poor surrogates for the warmth of the human body
feather and down are poor imitations
of tremulous skin and bones
but they aid my dreaming; even such a poor proxy for you.

Slalom

the way you swerve and veer
in and round me like a slalom skiier
leaves me floundering in the snow
watching the traces and trail of you disappear
through the moguls. Perhaps, you will want me
teach me to ski, teach me
the art of standing upright downhill; to follow you.

Dear hero, Imprisoned

Steal my keys, and tie me to the bars of this cell
Oh , I have been waiting for you.....
No! I am not looking for emancipation
just hogtie my hands to the railings
..let's get started; you don't need a letter of authorisation, do you?
& taste the steely determination on my lips
incarcerate my ass & ransack me
we can talk about liberties much, much later.

A New Country

Unrecognisible, let's start a new country
erase the parties we don't like
take a few pictures here, a garrish string of souvenirs
assassinate one or two who blacken our saving graces
bury them in obscure & romantic sounding places
we are not your allies, I am not your friend
this is just where we walked and swam
I did not come to annoint you
but I can see the sallow of disappointment welling in your eyes
so I guess I should slope back over the border
the bosom of Budapest welcomes me
like a kind of divination
the way you did once when you flew in to swallow me
in the throat of summer like a pair of fugitives
overlooking Szchenyi Hid, (momentarily the best view in the world).

Oozing Arrogance, Spilling Blood

I yearn for the day
when you realise just what atrocities you commit
hidden beneath the cosy blindness of a flag
oozing arrogance, spilling blood with impunity
sentencing sons and daughters to the cold, hard ground
without thinking, without blinking
blindness that no opthalmologist can cure
with a zeal most evangelists would envy
& I await your justifications
& you will toddle off to sunday service without an ouce of irony
without a thought what your country does in your name
is monstrous and un-Christian
---for anyone still thinking, cannot be defended.

The Allegory of the Broken Toes

slipped and fell on the staircase
and the x-ray showed two phalanges fractured
a wounded pride, a heart leathered by the neglect of lovers
so I shall limp with a certain amount of pride
as the toes turn deep purple
their blackness will be a tribute to you
every wince and yelp will be the symphony of us.

Philosophy and Nature

Do philosophers learn nothing from observations of nature?
Observe, the precarious launch of day, and the solemn passing
of night.You see dreams of autumn wilt and decay into
bronze memories,only to emerge re-shapened in the throaty
swallows of spring.Does not the sea moan more loudly at night,
and murmur during the day?After the rain shower, does the sun
not gleam with silvery pride.Old dreams die, but the green shoots
of new will emerge in their place.
Time is your ally, surender to it, & your ransom is secure.

Funland

http://www.tv.com/funland/show/63768/summary.html

Are you trying to have me blacklisted
all pity , sympathies and people discussing me
and with a flick of a switch:
full-of-swirl, lascivious limbs whorl
licentious Lola sashaying down the runway
like a b-grade actor or a gin slinging karaoke pit
remind me, this is television, smile to the viewers
as parody, as panegyric, as pathos
"Line them up, everyone can have a go"
until the rap of gunfire and the closing credits.

Alana and Iani

http://www.stuff.co.nz/3947057a6554.html

what love is this
between a woman and a child
that she would forsake her home and country
for two years in Timisoara for a boy's smile
enduring the insanity of bureaucracy, interminable delays..
since 1999 a candle burns---and now a homecoming, surely.

Pillow Book

Dip the velvetine brush of you
   in to the inkwell and linger there
      this calligraphy; the passionate notations
  of desire, all crisp strokes and tender flourishes
the paper so ardently wants the quill
to write poems of love's power
upon the warm supple parchment of your skin
secret words that only you:: mad, mad lover comprehend
    this will be my new language.

Wind, Wellington

if i waited for you
would you reach me before I hurled myself off
the side of one Brooklyn's hills
in a howling gale. Would you heal me
before the rush of air sends me skyward out over the Cook Strait
like an albatross looking for its mate?
Would the wind's whistle thrill you if it upended me
& I was jettisoned over the harbour (it would me)
I would love to spin on my axis over Roseneath
and swoop and swoon like an uncontrollable kite
can you see now, what the wind does to me
when it thrustles through the trees of Kelburn
& why I feel so ethereal in this weather?

What Iulia says

Iulia says, she will comment one day
to which I retort: today!
Iulia says that she must consider first the intricacies of love
my riposte: go to him without delay
and leave your ornate procrastinatons behind
lets us make cloth for our funeral suits from them
Iulia says there is unemployment there
I say: Romania is underemployed, what is your point?
Iulia mutters something about not wanting to be a waitress
& I say, this is the New Europe that wants to embrace you
why do you recoil in the face of opportunity
do not shrink or shy away! And as usual, send me a postcard
tell me how you enjoyed the greatest of all your escapes
ponder no longer, I implore you to act!

Reclaiming lost territories

Momentarily, I am the sun
bright and luminous rising
in your eyes the sun-sparkle glaze of the night's submission falls
in the crucibles of your eyes, sunbursted, sublime
I can sense the surrender; the abandonment of your body
to the incursions of irrespressible forces
ransacking your borders, reclaiming terrorities lost last night
& I erect the flag of my nation to claim you as war booty
as a treasure of conquest, the victor's spoil
and from you there is barely a whimper of protect, just a sweet decline.

Marea Neagră (Black Sea)

I have seen the weather forecast
Braila skies are maddening for rain--
lugubrious waves shall crash cacophonies into your shores.
I can see the spume and the dark melodies
whistling in the wind (such doleful tunes)
and I command you to stand resolute & admire the view, unflinchingly
for the tide will turn
& it is then you will need your strength so stop your pointless flailing.
Inhale the sea air
so that when you turn, inland
you will remember the Black Sea and not be so frightened of the water.

As vrea sa iti pot oferi mai multa asistenta practica/I wish I could help you more

The suffering of others
has never been easy to bear
& friend, in this sullen hour I hope
the exchange rate for my words might
be analgesia
a slightly dulling, a mild deadening of that which afflicts you
today, and other days,
there is nothing I can do but listen
there is nothing I can do but inspirit hope
I hope these palliative words find currency
exchange them, barter hard, and rest for a while.

On the Front Foot: A guide to new romance whilst watching cricket

Play on the front foot
get your foot to the pitch
smother any spin or deviation that is imparted
and try to avoid getting stumped
or spooning a soft chance to cover or edging to slip

Be patience itself,
try to get off the mark with a deft push through the covers
or nurdle one down to long leg
it is important to run hard and slide in
& most importantly, push for singles.

Desire

I want to lack ambition
extinguish the fires of yearning ignited inside me
this inferno rages and I risk immolation
desire is such dangerous fuel to carry
in such huge payloads
& the smell of high octane fuel follows me around
like a box of matches wooing a cigarette
the combustible residue slick on my hands
with the embers of my eyes smouldering
the smoke of peril & possibility.

Response to a Verdict on the Internet

Ah yes, wondrous, but it has its limitations
can it anneal the pain of unrequited love?
can it console the lover who misses an absent embrace.
It is a prurient, voyeuristic companion
can it provide a warm harbour for those marooned by the dissolution of love.
more stringently, is the mirror for our own narcissism and egocentrism.
It is counterfeit and synthetic, beguiling and entrancing,
a hall of mirrors where we choose how much truth we tell,
how many lies we divulge, and how fantastic we are or are not.
Nice sophistry though: I wanted to believe you.

Wandering the back alleys

I just want to say
if anytime you want to loiter in the back alleys
where the light is dim and shadowy
consider me a co-conspirator
I will not cover you as a chattel
but I do reserve the right to borrow you for a while
& disappear into the shadows without warning
and then deliver you saffronescent unto the light.

Pisica

It is easy to be captivated
by your feline charms
beguiling in the abstract those gracile enchantments
but how much substance you have for living passionately
remains as enigmatic as your plaintive cries
most of our conversations are determinedly one-way,
though for a time, hope lived, that you might articulate it with fortitude and clarity
but you just sat down in your basket and went back to sleep
somn usor, mica pisica ascultatoare

Amnesty and Armistice

--for Meg

If harsh words are spilled like herbicides
leaves will wither & we will endanger the things we love
become the compost of the uncaring

the tallest trees sway in the gale
you and I can be resolute again
nor as before, but as a treaty of trees

I stand before you as unflinching as the granite hills
innured to the observations of daily losses
in new ways, I am learning to love you

Allow me to befriend even your lesser anxieties
my roots can gnarl like the great Banyan trees
you may marvel at the gracile majestry of each tendril's reach
and I will proferr shelter.

A Typical Sunday Walk with You in Wellington

(25 July 2006) TL & MM

Grove Rd from Glenn glade and colonnade
gentrified villas on Tinakori Road
stand shoulder to shoulder
like spruced up courtesans languidly playing for trade
At Hill St, a wistful turn
a mother's alma mater, cherished brick and stone
sits overlooking Parliament

Like moths, we are drawn down the labyrth of ramps and underpasses
across Molesworth St, emerging to greet Fortress America
the star-spangled fluttering proudly in the breeze
--an attempt at a photo thwarted [a security risk]
Lazily down, Pipitea Street for silent prayer and meditation
we walk hand in hand.

The Chamber

(22 July 2006)

I saw a documentary about cryogenic chambers
where time is ossified
& lives and aspirations are suspended
can you feel the icy chill in my veins
the declared fullness of action
is cold yearning

Frenzy and Sorrow

I like the way the sugar-rush wells engulfs
the bay of our maudlin sands
& your slickened shore
with the ferocacity of an fevered tide
cleansing thighs and minds of the detritus
we alone cannot rinse in the waking hours.
I cherish the listening post--
ragged coasts most heartfelt want
veers towards understanding, frenzy and sorrow
and your quivering ebbs assuage me
for as long as the tide rises
and the lust-splash drenches us both.

Love is not an Enid Blyton Mystery

are you waiting for me
to stand on the back veranda
& send you semaphores
well, smuggled lover, the only cove here is mine
these hands that sing for you
that would laid claim to you, as if buried treasures
grow enfeebled, waiting
Allow me to dispense with the subtleties...
can I collect all this silken sophistry
& make a bed for it, now
Come, lie with me--Iet me savour the brine.

The Art of Waiting

--for Marvin

Teach me anew, this agonising art of waiting
hold my head inside your hands
You understand my aches
can you still my heart, staunch my tongue?
am I going to wait til Kingdom come?
then say you'll come,
I will drink your tears, and I'll be your blood
come find yourself
my rivers are in flood

Rapturous

it is true
there are more negatives than positives
in the Roget's Thesaurus
but every time I inhale you
I become inebriated
I am rapturous
I am not sure which part of you to covet most
should I be the scholar of your mind?
should I be the physician of your body?
the philosopher of your soul
or just tell every living thing: this is rapturous!

The One where I give you my Imprimatur

The lights go out
a shooting star cannot be named
This is stellar:
I have brought you down on your knees
oh how you plead
I knew you would beg and squeal
You will not curse missed opportunities
if you need an imprimatur
it might as well be the imprints of my hands all over you
one stinging riposte
to set you in your place.

Phnom Penh

in secret
be still, be quiet; refute everything
say nothing
the street will be full of stars
the shimmering sun will fall over the Palace
and the masquerade can continue
til the quisling of morning
& the man in the room opposite has finished eavesdropping
clandestine conversations
straining over the cicada whirring of air conditioning units
and pirated Thai pornography
& the fragance of intrigue and inquisition

Sleeping with You

I want to sleep with you
intertwined
legs and arms with your mouth as a pillow
I want to sleep with you again
find again the refuge in carnal pleasures
with no words to distract me
no eyes to lie to us
just your nipples, tense and febrile
shining with a thousand quivers
I want to sleep with you again and again
stretched out on your shadow
with your ass warm and hammered
all blood courses in stolen glances
and who is the most willing prisoner of unspeakable lusts
only you and I know that.

Harvest

Under a restless sky and a jealous sun,
among the field of tall grasses
she and I raced, hided, and laughed
as if tomorrow was a far distant island
these were innocent times when boys and girls could simply play
without complication
with meditation
without the spectre of psychotherapy
without the turmoil of sexual politics
without misconstrual
ah, what a bitter harvest that field reaped
once we left
hurtling headlong into the summer of our youth.

Observe

--for Megan

Observe what emerges, what disappears;
the road behind us, rutted and railed
Remember the glee & fear in holding hands
in letting go, in grasping
the beams--

From one hungry assurgent moment to the next: Observe
I made the world my playground; you followed
I danced in words and made music; you called it Art
Turn now, and dance.

By memory, by turning leaf, by the cold wet patina of tears
I will always know you
By the thousand notes of flail, the million unsent kisses
say I was the gardener of the soul
that the soil I tilled flourished and say I was a simple man
who had a small role in your shimmering permanence.

Black on the Outside, because Black is how I feel on the Inside

--for S.A,

A long, long,long time ago
I awoke to tangled vines
strangling my neck but but twas only the day breaking
drugged-down, pulled-out, bound and muzzled
shorn of strength, smiling was my struggle
puzzled, mute-jawed, fear-clawed
this was my greeting
eyes shutting near dawn, carring nets of extinguishment
the night snearing any dreams
nocturnal figures eerily distant
claw of words, shards of charcoal
the taste of the charnel house between my lips
but having devoured me and reduced my house to rubble
it surrendered me to the light; the ransom was paid

Timisoara: little voices whispering softly

----with thanks to Alexandra Grigorianu for checking my bad Romanian

Sometimes, a little lachyrmose
I hear the child of Piata Traian
the metallic wails of trams turning
faces gazing out the windows into me

Sometimes, as joyously as a summer afternoon
I hear the crickets singing joyously
the Bega flowing almost imperceptibly somewhere
as the heat fills the dusty streets
and it is too hot to make love too violently


Sometimes, lethargically, I am in the sufragerie
the listless heat outside like a distempered dog
the snoopy old ladies of Zona Dorobantilor
slying in wait for stirring, passings, comings
& I must provoke them daily!


Sometimes, the pretty young girl in the magasin
with her bronzed arms and gold-flecked teeth
flirts with me as I stammer in her native tongue,
Dati-mi va rog o sticla de Cola mare ?
& she would love the vermillion hues of reddening cheeks
as I slink back to the apartment
(Inca mai aud acele voci soptind incet)
little voices, little voices....

Fleshprayers

slowly, reverently the tabernacle
of this hallowed body of yours
passes through my hands, sacramentally sweet
godsent fingers slicked from benediction
murmuring ancient incantations
as we tremble before the morning gods rise
Oh, angel and rubinesque
fleeting and phantasm in one
receive my vain and breathy entreaties indulgently
know the delirium and hope they inspire
& take some of the hymns our legs and arms sang
& run into the street, heaven-smiling.

As If By Sea

smelling lilac in the tresses
the headland standing like a four-poster bed
the rich luxuriance of emerald-studded grasses
makes your bed
& clouds shooting across the ceiling of the sky
will give you something more tangible to remember
when blood-thumping pulses subside unto the shore
like a pier, as if by sea.

A Different Kind of Life

Do you ever have snatched little moments
at the apex of an afternoon
where the tremulous soul reaches out
to the threadbare strands of life
this one--the one you are not leading.

You went this way; you choose wisely, feeklessly
maybe it is security over ambition
sensibility over risk
as a mute witness to a bed of undeclared lovers
then, without warning
flickered dreamscapes of doppelgangers and their have lives come
to you
in the seering, unforgiving heat of afternoon.

Shivering with regret and incomprehension
this Bulevardul of unseeen agonies and missed opportunities
--some days Helsinki, somedays Timisoara--
others in some other lustrous city; music and inebriation
has us smiling so contently, the idea of you fully formed.

I am weeping, smiling and writing poetry again.....
& this doppelganger returns teasing me with pleasure futures.

27 January 2007