Wednesday, January 31, 2007

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.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

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.

Monday, January 29, 2007

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.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

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.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

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