Waking into Dream
Hung in closed cupboards of my dozing mind
Or on their shelves, frocks shoes I used to wear.
No moth no broken heel no hems that tear
Nail catch dance step. I left them all behind
Months clean sheets bandaged bled out cut and sore
Doing my face in bed so I'd look well
For visitors. Whore face I'd paint to sell
Now reassuring friends. Ached to the core
Of who I'd been weak tired sad gross from bloat
Dance done I thought. And had not learned that charm
Would bring blonde cuties floating on my arm
I wish that I could send sick girl a note
Things work out fine. Wear black from head to toe.
It slims. And other things she'll need to know.
Sentience basks where crystals just reflect.
Blind kittens stretch and mew into the sun
Soft pressure on their skin. There's straight lines run
From us out to the Oort. And intellect
Is only part. The dance skin bits and dust
Dance beams in shutter sudden open rooms
The hopeless loss choke premature dark tombs
We yearn for its eye stroke. It is a lust
Lash feather kiss on cheek is just its shade
First and last thing controlling metaphor
Exploded monobloc nothing before
Fire of all green, virtue's discerning blade
We do not know it yet it is our world
Round it and time mind lies in comfort curled
Night in a city that has licked its wounds
Two thousand years. And curls around its kits
Feeding and grooming heroes cowards wits
Lovers and killers. Always quiet sounds
As traffic purrs dim cat lights in the street.
Windows are dark in darkness curtains drawn
So many million. City I was born
In your warm heart my first breath to its beat
And hope to die according to your laws
Breathing your scented passioned poison air
Surrounds me chokes me black dust in my hair
I drink dark milk protected by your claws
Gog Magog Bran and dragons in the stone
You gave me all the words I write breathe own.
Her breathing on that last day soft and slow
A little troubled moments then to calm
And back to sleep. I reached and stroked her arm.
Was that we both were there something she'd know
Or had that passed? Eyes flicked from side to side
Hearing two voices. Did she recognize
That I was there? She looks up and then tries
To wake a little. On the train, I cried.
And I had said goodbye and so had Jane.
It was we did not know last of her days
There is the last word that a person says
They tire. Drugs sleep and death the end of pain.
Last glimpse her sleeping face closed eyes her skin
Against the bedding pale white paper thin.
Dance in the dark, green shimmer, outstretched leg
Inspiring muse yet moll the toe tap beat
Ragtime and rivets, burning torch to greet
Strangers, dear tawdry land I will not beg
That you fulfil your promises, our dreams.
The best of hopes most nightmare of despairs
Shining and stained a fantasy of home
Pancakes and bacon mirrorshading chrome
Striped zootest suits that anybody wears
By of and for yet choking on bloodgold
I could not breathe there where was near first free
Twirled in your air you beat charmed ravished me.
I heard the stories that your victims told
And yet your better angel at your ear
To save, while it's your demons we all fear.
THE MYSTERIOUS PEDLAR
Mum's cousin Jean had cheekbones like sharp knives,
And eyes dark passion brown as the old song.
We often get these speculations wrong
But bits of us get passed down through their lives
The ancestors of whom we hardly heard.
He was a pedlar who got sick and died
My great great grandma kneeling at his side
Who nursed him. And we don't know what occurred.
Nose aquiline and cheekbones in my blood
Irish potato face grandfather's height
My aunt's imagination these things might
Explain me. We aren't made of sun-baked mud
But generations handed flesh and bone
Remembered family and those unknown.
IN MEMORY OF THE RED ARMY CHOIR
White snowberry deep birch wood.Crisp pure white snow crunches under soldier boot. They sing Joy wistful angry shouting whispering Tenor to pierce the soul bass deep as night. Her brown black sparkle eyes bright as her soul Or crops that waver endless as the sea Rich deep black soil grave of each enemy Each generation and their voices roll Like rivers through the heart blood workers red Patriots shed on every inch of ground Massage our ears that fierce and healing sound Bayan and balalaika. And they're dead And singers die and there is still the choir To say the land's eternal death's a liar
AFTER RILKE'S Archaic torso of Apollo
We cannot guess its head god glaring gaze
Apple round ripe carved eyes. But yet the stare
Persists inherent in those pecs. It's there
Glows through stone muscles like the turned down blaze
Arclight could blind. There gentle still it burns
Warm as the sweetness of the sudden smile
That comes with loin thrust, glows continues while
The body shows self glimmers as it turns
Unwhole unshamed remaining still complete
White stone that dazzles sheen as silken skin
God like a star that burns from deep within
Its every inch a friendly face to greet
Admonish you voice echo out of far
Far distant time. Be other than you are
We are the thoughts that we can recollect
Persist and pulse the beat of melting clocks
Chase as it disappears bright tail of fox
Strutted as owned the park. Time vulture pecked
Her from herself. Her beauty nail sharp wit
Lasted until it did not when the glass
No more showed her her self. And these things pass
Clouds bubbles memories. I'd like to hit
Time in the face so hard. All summer long
She played the same damn record Tapestry
Weaves mighty real taste of the Earl Gray tea
Poured endlessly. And still the same old song.
She is not here. Was not before her death.
Yet in my mind laugh smile and husky breath.