We
who had gathered
unknown, amidst strangers
witnessed the first signs.
The distant noise
-a murmur,
riding the waves.
Rising; raising ripples in the music.
One by one
we came, one and all,
we, who were what was the crowd.
Unaroused
we gathered around fires,
little circles shielding the light,
melting numbed joints.
We, who had gathered
brandishing machetes
and books and tools,
suffered the first Loss.
Thronging the streets,
littering the halls -the temple steps,
we could not see it coming,
submerged as it was
underneath our clamor.
You and I,
who were there, on that fateful day,
stared at its face
and met those pitiless eyes.
Blazing fire
in sudden spiteful fury,
beating in ecstasy the drums of doom.
A toppled mountain plunging into the streams
the tides rising like never before,
the thundering steps
growing louder,
over and above apocalypse.
And we, who were there
saw in its face
the unrelenting power
of creation that no longer submits to any creator
We, who had gathered
rushed out to see our nemesis.
One so bold to smite us.
It was then, perhaps
that you and I,
in the scattering crowd
of the unraveling world
were struck by its force.
We stared at its face
helpless,
you and I,
who had created this monster
flesh and blood, and bronze,
But now, we can only gape
at our creation
sounding the music of the final delirium.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Afterwards
The shingle stones;
the shroud
of golden butterflies
hovering over the edge of my dreams.
You were the glazen mirror;
the glinting sunshine
ramming through nothing
was the poetry etched on your glass.
We were clouds;
once upon a time-
we were clouds.
An endless fall;
a hunger
of jagged knives
claws at the bottom of this desire.
You are a picture still
still enough a picture
-you are my picture still.
But the twilight;
the distant storm
of unprovoked tamarind lust
has washed these tides with words.
You are the blazen mirror;
The vastness
of your presence;
and I must step back to capture everything-
that slipped
back, beyond the edge of this cliff.
the shroud
of golden butterflies
hovering over the edge of my dreams.
You were the glazen mirror;
the glinting sunshine
ramming through nothing
was the poetry etched on your glass.
We were clouds;
once upon a time-
we were clouds.
An endless fall;
a hunger
of jagged knives
claws at the bottom of this desire.
You are a picture still
still enough a picture
-you are my picture still.
But the twilight;
the distant storm
of unprovoked tamarind lust
has washed these tides with words.
You are the blazen mirror;
The vastness
of your presence;
and I must step back to capture everything-
that slipped
back, beyond the edge of this cliff.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
-untitled-
-untitled- (or ‘A very blue memoir of a rainy day on sixth street’)
--(untitled and quite incomplete; rejected for the lack of coherence)--
She said she wanted to be free. She was walking in the rain, under a clear sky that betrayed no hint of the coming blue. It wasn’t very clear- it was raining quite heavily- and I couldn't see; maybe it wasn’t really her.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Orchestra, is the music too loud. No it isn’t a question, not quite. Yes I know you cant hear me, and of course, there will still be cheese for dinner.
She was still talking when she got into the cab – sorry, I mean the rickshaw. Did it change anything that she didn't have a bag with her, no rosy lipstick and no sticky business in the corner shop?
No the mirror didn't crack as she left- as he left- or whatever. ‘It’ left me alone in the street. I took maybe the subway home, and in any case I don’t recall how I came home. I read sometime in the newspaper that our city will soon have a subway- or a park, where there will be people.
Of course you cant hear me, child. Go run in the rain, I would have done so if I were you. Am I not you? How can you say that. Oh yes, I couldn't quite see that it has stopped raining. Very good, you will make a good citizen someday, my brave boy. If not, you will definitely make a good doctor.
So yes, we were at the moment when she left me. She said she wanted to be free. She had the most awful air of unsaturated indignity around her. She was sitting next to a microbiologist. She was the microbiologist. No no no, you are getting it all wrong- you had dated a microbiologist sometime next Wednesday.
I have a dream. I didn't like it much but I always have the same dream. I am in a blue room, with fifteen chairs and fourteen tables.
Of course blue is my favorite color, how did you know?
Ah, I am tired. It has been a long time. She took such an awful time to leave. I wish she hadn’t. I wish he hadn’t left with her. I wish they had stayed over at least for coffee.
I don’t like drinking alone- or with more than three people. I always go to a bar with three chairs. The fifteen chairs had a gilded lion on them. Funny, I have never seen a lion!
She was my most romantic soulmate. Yes I am aware that the dictionary says ‘soulmate’ is not a single word and no, you may not run after the kite in south park, or west park, or any blue park for that matter. Yes blue is my favorite color.
I had given her a blue cigar on her nineteenth birthday. She believes she has smoked it away. I never found the ashes, and I know she is lying. She gave it to him under the darkness of a summer noon in Palermo. My dear lady, I saw he was Italian!
Don’t play such somber tones- I am still alive and happy and singing. But you cant hear me, and you cant see that my red coat is drenched in the rain.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the radio station, you blissful angels playing music so late in the night, you must be tired. If I had a telephone I would also work for the radio- and sing for myself and others and my two sweet next-door girls who always pester me. They are all four years old and they already believe I am an air force pilot.
I think I need sleep. I know what dream I will have, so there is no suspense- the same reason why I stopped going to the movies- they simply have no dreams.
Yes dear, the cheese is cold, but the bread will make it better.
I think I sometimes cant say things right. She said as much, when she slammed the door on my face. But how could she slam the door? She went, poor me, in an innocent rickety rickshaw. But she slammed something. Maybe her invisible bag or her passionate love for me.
I think it was still raining when I said I am sorry. But she didn't hear it. I didn't hear it either. The gravel on the road was dry as bloodstains and the mud on the pavement as wet as my heart. My heart is perfectly fine, thank you. The doctor had checked just last leap year.
Sleep is after all coming over me. I have a room with only one bed. It’s a triple bed. Sometimes I used to go to bed with her, sometimes she with me. It had been quite well, but off late she brought him too, and we all went to our obviously triple bed.
It was stuffy; there were too many legs, too many hearts and too many aching breasts to nurture. There was also the fact that the windows in the room all faced the wrong side. She left me on the day the windows were taken out and put on the right side. Now the sunlight and the moonlight come from the right neon signs.
They left me in my misery, and carried away all my vintage wine. But wait, I never had vintage wine, I never could! But they took something vintage, some grandfather clock which never worked perhaps. The triple bed was far too crowded, and one day when I discovered myself on the floor, I knew I had had enough. I told her to get out, and then I screamed and then she screamed and then it rained.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Orchestra, I am quite tired, and I dare say I need some sleep, and I would like it very much if you could play something special tonight. She always sang so well, and even then, in the rain, she was singing; good lord, singing! She sang some ballad or some ode or some jazz as she slammed the door on my crumbling face.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Orchestra, is the music too loud. No it isn’t a question, not quite. Yes I know you cant hear me, and of course, there will still be cheese for dinner.
She was still talking when she got into the cab – sorry, I mean the rickshaw. Did it change anything that she didn't have a bag with her, no rosy lipstick and no sticky business in the corner shop?
No the mirror didn't crack as she left- as he left- or whatever. ‘It’ left me alone in the street. I took maybe the subway home, and in any case I don’t recall how I came home. I read sometime in the newspaper that our city will soon have a subway- or a park, where there will be people.
Of course you cant hear me, child. Go run in the rain, I would have done so if I were you. Am I not you? How can you say that. Oh yes, I couldn't quite see that it has stopped raining. Very good, you will make a good citizen someday, my brave boy. If not, you will definitely make a good doctor.
So yes, we were at the moment when she left me. She said she wanted to be free. She had the most awful air of unsaturated indignity around her. She was sitting next to a microbiologist. She was the microbiologist. No no no, you are getting it all wrong- you had dated a microbiologist sometime next Wednesday.
I have a dream. I didn't like it much but I always have the same dream. I am in a blue room, with fifteen chairs and fourteen tables.
Of course blue is my favorite color, how did you know?
Ah, I am tired. It has been a long time. She took such an awful time to leave. I wish she hadn’t. I wish he hadn’t left with her. I wish they had stayed over at least for coffee.
I don’t like drinking alone- or with more than three people. I always go to a bar with three chairs. The fifteen chairs had a gilded lion on them. Funny, I have never seen a lion!
She was my most romantic soulmate. Yes I am aware that the dictionary says ‘soulmate’ is not a single word and no, you may not run after the kite in south park, or west park, or any blue park for that matter. Yes blue is my favorite color.
I had given her a blue cigar on her nineteenth birthday. She believes she has smoked it away. I never found the ashes, and I know she is lying. She gave it to him under the darkness of a summer noon in Palermo. My dear lady, I saw he was Italian!
Don’t play such somber tones- I am still alive and happy and singing. But you cant hear me, and you cant see that my red coat is drenched in the rain.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the radio station, you blissful angels playing music so late in the night, you must be tired. If I had a telephone I would also work for the radio- and sing for myself and others and my two sweet next-door girls who always pester me. They are all four years old and they already believe I am an air force pilot.
I think I need sleep. I know what dream I will have, so there is no suspense- the same reason why I stopped going to the movies- they simply have no dreams.
Yes dear, the cheese is cold, but the bread will make it better.
I think I sometimes cant say things right. She said as much, when she slammed the door on my face. But how could she slam the door? She went, poor me, in an innocent rickety rickshaw. But she slammed something. Maybe her invisible bag or her passionate love for me.
I think it was still raining when I said I am sorry. But she didn't hear it. I didn't hear it either. The gravel on the road was dry as bloodstains and the mud on the pavement as wet as my heart. My heart is perfectly fine, thank you. The doctor had checked just last leap year.
Sleep is after all coming over me. I have a room with only one bed. It’s a triple bed. Sometimes I used to go to bed with her, sometimes she with me. It had been quite well, but off late she brought him too, and we all went to our obviously triple bed.
It was stuffy; there were too many legs, too many hearts and too many aching breasts to nurture. There was also the fact that the windows in the room all faced the wrong side. She left me on the day the windows were taken out and put on the right side. Now the sunlight and the moonlight come from the right neon signs.
They left me in my misery, and carried away all my vintage wine. But wait, I never had vintage wine, I never could! But they took something vintage, some grandfather clock which never worked perhaps. The triple bed was far too crowded, and one day when I discovered myself on the floor, I knew I had had enough. I told her to get out, and then I screamed and then she screamed and then it rained.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Orchestra, I am quite tired, and I dare say I need some sleep, and I would like it very much if you could play something special tonight. She always sang so well, and even then, in the rain, she was singing; good lord, singing! She sang some ballad or some ode or some jazz as she slammed the door on my crumbling face.
--(untitled and quite incomplete; rejected for the lack of coherence)--
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