A SONG FOR YOU, Etta

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A SONG FOR YOU,
Etta




You are not mine to keep.

I may never possess you.
I just wish to take care of you for a while.

You have lived for years and years.
Yet your life, you, you seem to have awaited me,
I wonder the truth, could it be,
Had a sweet fortune intervened
And destined us to share our heart and soul?



Had a book with these self-same lines,
Had it sat out time?
Then had it stood, raised itself and appeared before me,
Insisting I copy the words from its pages,
That I might make them known,
And have world to hear when I read them to you?

And within this moment, our time and place,
That I have these tools ready for me,
The instant reference to books and words
A starry heaven held aloft by billions of gigabytes,
Spheres within spheres of information, now and eternal,
A noosphere of electronic storage, at my command,
That utterance may be given unto me,
That I may open my mouth boldly,
Oh, the wonder of it all, this love,
The remembrance of things past, between us,
The foretold promise of happy future, laid before us,
The mystery of this love, this love.

Up and down the country roads,
Along this big ol’ city’s streets,
You have had some tears and smiles,
And your plenty share of dreams and wish come true.

Yearnings never go out of style.

Do you ever cry when you‘re alone
When I am not by your side?

Do you silently wait for me?

Do you ever consider how it is that you have abandoned
A person with whom you have had much in common?

Then, when once I cease to live,
Someone else will appear, I suppose.

I know you have had lucky breaks,
Found fair quota of goodly things.
You can not be blamed
– many were my mistakes.
You have lived your life putting on a happy face,
A stiff upper lip when presented with adversity

I write this song so you might know,
Should you happen upon trouble,
Times of fear and woe, or nightmare,
When past demons beset you,
If one day you loose your course and fail,
You have this verse, my love for you,
And I trust you remember the times I sat behind
The wheel, and steered you safely home.

You are not mine to keep.
I just take care of you for a while.

You have lived for years and years.
Yet your life, you, you seem to have awaited me,
I wonder the truth, could it be,
Had a sweet fortune intervened
And destined us to share our heart and soul?

SUMANGALAMATA

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SUMANGALAMATA




Hard to believe she wrote such sentiments
Six centuries before the common era.
Legend claims she was a nun,
Who had had to flee from family and home.

Her father arranged a suitable man for her to marry,
But his choice horrified her.



Instead she ran to follow Lord Buddha.

On a tablet she noted,
“I am woman well set at liberty!
How free I am, how wonderful my story,
No more cooking pots and kitchen drudgery,
No more worry about the household going hungry!

“And free at last from having to bed
A man whose character I never cherished.
Whose face I found ugly and body abhorrent!”

Hard to believe she wrote such sentiments
Six centuries before the common era.
Legend claims she was a nun,
Who had had to flee from family and home.

IMPOSSIBLE DREAM, A Lover's Question

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IMPOSSIBLE DREAM,
A Lover’s Question



I have an astounding dream to report.

It has me running down a long hall in the semi-darkness
With a key in my hand. It's a cylindrical key,
And on its end it has a single, protruding notch,
The type of a key used to wind an antique clock.



Mounted to the wall at the end of my run stands
A giant, three-dimensional cartoon heart, painted,
Yet with a color so natural,
It rivals the red of a Red Delicious apple.

On the right at the top of this wondrous heart
A gold metal strike plate sets up over against
An aperture, the channel; I wonder if it leads
To the lock that might open, release your heart?

Have I the key? Or do I dream only to wake,
Awaken to nightmare day of awful longing and ache?

Have I lost my mind? Has logic betrayed me?
Do I confuse dream wish with reality?

Darling, answer me soon! Does my deep desire
Verge on truth? Will anxiety cease?
The promise of a new, peaceful kingdom
Is it to be fulfilled, here, in the affirmative today?

Now I stand before you, You, my Higher Power,
And the congregates sense the blasphemy;
They whisper calumnies.
They say that I am my father’s son,

“He is the boy from the hardware store!
By whose authority has he the right to reveal,
Who does he believe, who might he think
He is when he informs us his midnight imaginings?”

And me, their belligerence,
The hostility of the locals does not concern me,
Not a whit, though they rise up
And ready to condemn me.
I pray ... I might have definite answer,
That I am prophet in this house,
That I may begin this, my public ministry, positive,
Carry hope for life anew,
And have news extraordinary, good, for all to hear.

Down a space eclipsed in semi-darkness, I run.
I have a key in my hand. It's cylindrical;
A single, notch protrudes at its end.
It is the kind of key that winds an antique clock.
Darling, please, your answer!
Have I the key to open your heart,
Or do I dream the impossible dream?

THANK YOU, BACCHUS

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THANK YOU, BACCHUS*


Thank you, Bacchus. You let me go,
Freed me from your treacherous hold.

The enemy's army caught our ranks unaware;
Our generals had failed to figure on all-out assault.

An awful panic ensued.
I had not the time to grab my boots.
I ran across the Sinai.
I hoped to survive and make it home.
It was early morning, yet the sand was hot.
Before long my feet were badly burned.
Snipers hid among the rocks and hills;
They shot and killed us, almost everyone.



Thank you Bacchus. You let me go,
Freed me from your treacherous hold.

I crossed the Nile and my injuries healed,
From death in the desert, abandoned and alone,
Your grace had saved me.
Now I share this marvelous tale;
The troops in rout and I had prevailed.



*Bacchus is the Roman god of wine; he has a number of darker associations, one of them is the disorder apparent when an army suffers a calamitous defeat.

RED ROOF INN, Love a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey, 2011 Edit

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RED ROOF INN,
Love a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey,
Edited, April 2011



An impossibly large bed stretched out across the room.
Between its feet and a long chest of drawers
A narrow aisle traveled the length.
It ran from the front door to the back of the room.

And you, there, in your bikini briefs, in an alcove,
An enclosure directly opposite the bathroom;
It occupied half the suite’s entire width.



Your back to me,
You stood up against a cantilever table.
It was a wall-to-wall vanity with a mirror,
A mirror whose length matched the table’s surface,
And it covered the back wall up to the ceiling.
Recessed lamps provided light from overhead.

You brushed your hair, and
With each stroke I saw
How your shoulder blades flexed.

I rose up from the bed,
Took a few steps,
And then, still from behind you,
I bent my torso forward at the waist,
And extended my arms,
My hands reached both your legs at the ankles.

Head-down, I pulled myself close to you.
My left shoulder found the center,
It rested right between your buttocks and legs.
The left side of my chin found a niche,
It touched the back of your right knee.

I was squatting and each of my hands
Was wrapped around one of your ankles,

When I stood up, I told you,
I had never personally encountered a woman
Who looked so much the better naked than clothed.

“Wow!” Burst out. And you said,
“You sure know how to compliment a girl.”

‘Woman! Trust my veracity.
‘Do not confuse my honest praise with flattery.’

I spoke these words only to myself, my tongue was tied.

Yet, then pretending to further my defense,
I more or less recalled the poet’s immortal words,
Those lines about truth and beauty being one,
And is not response to beauty, truth?

I ran the maxim in my mind, I was dumbfounded,

“‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty.’”

I dwelled in total awe of you.

And when old age our generation shall waste,
And time brings world to more and other woes,
We have had this moment and its sentiment remains –
‘Darling, that is all,’ I quoted the lines to myself,

I had not uttered a word aloud,

‘You know on earth, and all you need to know.’

DASH IT! Edited, April 2011

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DASH IT!
Edited, April 2011



Dash it, Baby!
Is this the best we can do?

Don't tell me!
Have neither of us the sense,
Reason enough to know which way is up, or down?

Here's the key, there's my desk,
You already have my heart,
You can come and go, whenever you please.



Should you find a spare penny,
Lying anywhere about the house,
Keep it, please, and when you have the opportunity,
Use it, toss it into a fountain and wish us well.

I take my hat off to you.
Don't be hard on me old girl;
We have had a run of bad luck.
Let's hope that things are bound to get better.

Are you happy?
I did say? I promised you, did I not, that
I would make you queen of my poetry.
Well, haven't I?
By the way, who of us is happier?

You take pleasure in your business,
You have your list of details,
All the very many, important things to do,
And now with your father gone,
You have the legal consequence, and its paper work,
Plus the obligation of those household matters,
Which once he used to do.

You seem enamored with your lengthy driving about.
I sometimes wonder where you go,
How you might disappear for days!

Not a word about your haunts, not a single line,
“No Internet connection,” you claim.
And when I ask about your goings,
Why the haste?
You answer, "Antique show on Saturday."
Of course, I have heard that one before.
Then I ask you, where?
You say, “Pennsylvania.”

Oh, how tedious the dialogue becomes.
Yet I remind you, Pennsylvania is a very large state!
As I query,
I see the roll of your thinking plainly in your eyes,
Can you believe it?
Doesn't it look silly,
When in this verse I present it before you,
Your answer, the one word, “Allentown.”



2.


Years ago I learned the reality --
Buying and selling no easy enterprise.

I know you take every special delight,
And you have the ability for concentration,
At level it requires to be successful at your shopping.

Lord knows, you love a good deal.
I have never known anyone, who enjoys a low price,
A markdown or a discount more than you.

Even your afternoon dessert, it appears, tastes better
When it comes at half-price.

I realize that you are accustomed to international travel,
Heavy baggage means little to you,
Except, of course, should the carrier's personnel notice
Your true luggage weight
And you must pay for the extra kilos.

Then there is the situation with your mother,
(All kinds of complexities there!)
A topic I shall have to postpone,
A subject to tackle in another poem, or two.

And as for me, for me,
I sit up half the night writing poetry;
You must know I am lonely.
I seek your company, can you blame me?

You combine intelligence, beauty and thrift.
I doubt I find your bounty's equal in any other.

I hope to fill the wee small hours of the morning,
Knowing that you sleep in our bed,
And, that though you travel,
You return and make a home with me.

Forget about it! I shall survive.
No need for undue concern,
Or worry that I am probably the gloomier of us two,
Yet I wonder how you push through the day,
How you manage a smile or roam open and free.

Dash it, Baby!
I am still caught up in the happy bondage;
I wonder if either of us will escape it,
What I have called this thing of ours,
And how your grandfather,
Our dreams of him and his appearance, ties us
To a Destiny, whose inklings, still animates our hearts.

“In the wee small hours of the morning,”

So the old song goes,
While whole, wide-world, deep asleep,
I'd be yours, if only you would stay,
Be in our bed and home with me.

I have difficulty believing that you remain remote.
Can it be? Who resists the hand of Fate?
Have you now and forever become unavailable to me?

HATE AND LOVE, Odi et Amo, Catullus, Poem 85

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HATE AND LOVE,
Odi et Amo,
Catullus, Poem 85



I hate and I love,
You might ask, how do I explain it?



I do not know,
But I feel it happening and
It tears me apart.


Odi et Amo,
Catullus, Carmen 85


Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

BLACK WATER, An Adaptation of a Fassbinder Theme

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BLACK WATER,
An Adaptation of a Fassbinder Theme,
April 2011



Water in the forest, terrible black water,
A pond over rot and dead leaves,
You lie silent, quiet, you, you stay still,
Unmoving, yet the storm rages around the wood,
In the groves pines lean and nets of spiders,
They are torn apart, and then splintering begins.




You, in the hollow, you, you rest, black water.
Branches fall, leaves scatter,
Bark peals from trees and flies all directions at once.
The wind rips all that stands, the grove succumbs.

But nothing reaches you, down there, black water.

NOD, On the East of Eden, April 2011

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NOD,
On the East of Eden,
April 2011


Hey, girlfriend,
There are things about me that you do not know.
There are things which you might not understand.
Sorry to say, yet let me tell you,
There are things which you could never understand,
And sadly, the terrible corollary,
You should not understand.



I run with the pack.
Its dens sit in the land of Nod.

I dwell in a place on the east of Eden.

MIDNIGHT RECAP, 19 August 1976, Edited

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MIDNIGHT RECAP,
19 August 1976,
Edited




Gad! It's Nancy Lake of North Carolina,

“Chairman, Richard Rosenblum of the Great,
The Oh-so-Great, Delegation from the State of New York”

Representatives proclaim their diverse cultures,
Highlight separate geographies, timed to a moment,
Tied to one central theme,
Arizona, Washington, Indiana, Illinois…
Texas, Alaska…, Chinese, Blacks,
Chicanos and I-talo-Americans,
All expected to take twenty-five seconds or less:

“I am honored to second the nomination…

“The man the American people can trust!

“It is with my great pleasure…

“We are proud to place the name --

“Miss Perez has set a record -- under fifteen seconds!

“Aloha!

“The miracle of Joseph’s coat of many colors…

“A head and a heart! A living legend!

“The last line of defense…

Blrrrrwrrwrrwwwwrrrrr.

“Gerald R. Ford for President!”

ALPHA AND OMEGA, Yet Another Love Poem

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ALPHA AND OMEGA,
Yet Another Love Poem,
April 2011




Etta, what do you want from me?

I fell in love with you.
What can I do?
I care for you; you’re beautiful.
No explanation, it’s not rational.



I’m older, you’re younger.
I’m an American, you’re European.
I was raised on the Great Plains.
You grew up on the thin soil of a limestone island.

The matter reduces itself to the basic.
Try as hard as I can, I can not end my love for you.

To me, this love continues as though it folds onto itself,
Looking more like one of those new images,
Drawn from highest theoretic of current cosmology,
Space-time systems overlapped, bestraddled,
Universes within multiple universes,
Dimension upon dimension,
Inexplicable, unimaginable paradox,
Beginning and ending all at once,
At one point, all to one point, no sides, no dimensions,
Alpha and omega, and ultimately
Sine qua non of my existence.

What else do you want me to say?

I’m at a loss. Right this moment,
No one else, no one else but you!

Darling, I want only the best for you.
Would you, would you, please forgive,

Condone my presumption, since yet,
It seems, the same holds true for you, too.