These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o’clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. Although I could no longer see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching...
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WINTER LOVE MELANCHOLY
The
seabirds cry out across the harbor. I
hear from them a high lonesome song.
And
in the distance a fog horn, It,
too, sounds a plaintive note, Repeatedly reviving my sorrow.
The
damp, hard, winter wind frightens me. I
have a bad shiver.
The
nights remain very long. I
no longer seem able to recall how Once
a summer sun had warmed the days.
Even
though I use both my hands And
pull down hard upon my stocking cap, Its
edges fall short of cover for my ears.
I
know that I might never kiss her again.
)
Mercy,
please Mercy!
What
hope have I for life, When Heart has packed her clothes and left me!
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RED
ROOF INN, Love
a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey Darling,
darling, girl, Much
between us remains unsaid.
Remember
that first overnight date at the Red Roof Inn?
I
am in search of this lost time.
An
impossibly large bed stretched out across the room. Opposite
from the bed frame’s feet, A
long chest of drawers rested flat against the wall. A
narrow aisle traveled from the suite’s front door Running
between the furniture to the rear of the room.
And
you, there, in your bikini briefs,
At
the end of the aisle, you were in an alcove,
An
enclosure directly opposite the bathroom. The
area 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 big mirror. The
mirror, you recall, was as long as the table’s surface,
And
it covered the entire back wall up to the ceiling.
Recessed
lamps provided light from overhead.
While standing before the table’s edge your face to the mirror You brushed your hair. With each stroke I witnessed the sinews beneath your skin, Your bones, how your shoulder blades flexed.
I
rose up from the bed, Took
a few steps, And
then, still from behind you, I
remained behind you, I
bent my torso forward at the waist. I
was squatting on my haunches, When
I extended my arms between your legs. Each
one of my hands was wrapped around one of your ankles. My
fingers held you just above your feet; My
thumbs pressed upon your Achilles tendons.
Head-down,
I pulled myself close to you. My
left shoulder went to the center,
It
rested within a spot between your buttocks and legs. The
left side of my chin found a niche, It
touched the back of your right knee.
That
was my posture when I had at first embraced you.
Once
I stood up,
Regained
some sense of my equanimity, I
told you that
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.”
I
was dumbfounded. I thought for a moment; Then
I took a moral attitude, yet my tongue was tied. Though
I spoke these words, they were only to myself. ‘Woman!
Trust my veracity.
‘Do
not confuse my honest praise with flattery.’
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 remained speechless. ‘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,
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TIME
FLIES; 21:59
Darling,
Tempus fugit, right? That’s
how the Latin goes. Virgil,
wasn’t it? But
who cares anyways, I
must say, hey Virgil, this is stupid stuff, Because
for me at home alone The
clock has stopped.
Then,
when I take another glance, I
realize from the timepiece's face That
I had been mistaken, my impression wrong. The
clock’s hands have apparently moved.
Yet
far from time fleeting, The
hours drag, even the second hand -- Its
motion becomes imperceptibly slow, When
you are gone and Day
and night must be faced alone.
And
you write to me and say that before long You
will return home. You declare that Less
than three weeks remain, Soon,
you add, your absence today turns to memory,
And
confidently profess, “time really does fly!”
But
for me, no matter how you try to comfort, Your
words are empty; they do nothing to hasten the hours! When
I hear the clock, note the spaces Between
its regular tick-to-tock, those intervals, They
appear as if they were eternity, and your absence --
Your face no longer upon your pillow, Your
body missing from your side of the bed -- You,
you seem now to have been gone forever.
2.
I
know. I know. You suppose that I exaggerate! Still
I am not acclimated to them, These
phenomena of your leaving, Your
terrible disappearances for the sake of business, These
separations, how may I ever become used to them!
You
were reared differently from me.
When
you were still a girl, Your
father was a frequent traveler; From
childhood on you grew accustomed To
experience longing, and you learned to practice A
ruse which had told your inner self that He
will be home before you know it.
I
can hear you and your mother rehearsing the phrase, When
dad was gone and you two sat at home alone, “Oh
the days go by so fast!”
The
electronic image of time before me (to
the bottom-right on the computer screen) Its
numbers read 21:59.
It
sits. It waits. Woman!
Can't you see what you have done to me? What
it means to be without you? Now
before me looms the terror, The
nightmare forecast, have you heard What
new science tells us About
the desolation to which all things row?
3.
The
universe endlessly expanding, With
its boundary beacons actually accelerating, Points
of light at outermost fabric of space/time, Increasing
speed, faster and faster, and distancing apart, Separately
hastening from one star-light point to another, All
of them at once unimaginably gaining velocity Now
farther and farther, becoming Less
and less visible one to the other, Each
spot, with its incredible luminosity, All
the great-big burns of atomic power Endlessly
hurling at quicking pace, hurrying and hurrying, Ever
picking up speed at the edge of empty space, Scurrying
to extend, stretching the cosmos, Until
ultimately everything that exists anywhere Has
no one object in sight of any other.
Might
I ever hope to expect the bright of your eyes To
bridge the black night, Where
time slips into nothingness, And
the law of gravity no longer applies, Every
principle of attraction confounded.
Me
having seen your face in every flower, That
once at summer's dusk we still felt warmth, And
at dawn when we awoke we felt it again. My
longing here, my each and every thought of you Mean
nothing when all spheres turn to final ice, And
all hope of perennial bloom becomes forlorn,
There
is no sunshine when you’re gone.
Time
at a halt, no more even the instant, and in the abyss No
star glimmers, no light shines out of the darkness,
I
wish you were in my arms tonight.
The
elctronic numbers on my computer clock read 21:59.
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TODAY’S SCENERY See the features of the landscape before you. Delight in the moment. Honor all things as fresh and new. One thing certain, No matter how far and long you may travel, Or if for years you just remain Within the walls of your home and garden, You will never pass by today’s scenery again.
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A
COMMON PRAYER
I
am a link in the golden chain of love, A
chain which girths the whole round world.
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CATULLUS
POEM 5, An Adaptation of an
Ancient Roman Love Poem
I
am here to repeat ancient wisdom:
What
do we care what the joyless say? They
should get lost, all of them!
Once
our tiny, brief light is pinched out, There
be no night, like that everlasting night, When
earth replaces heaven.
So
let’s kiss, and let’s kiss again. Let’s
kiss a thousand times, and, then, Let’s
do it all over again, those kisses.
How
many? How many? How many? How
many, you ask?
Let’s
not count our kisses
Make
no mistake about it. People
out there are jealous; I
hear that some of them have the evil eye, That
once they learn the number of our kisses, They
would use a black magic to hurt us.
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SOUR GRAPES, An Original Love Poem after the Verse of Catullus Understand, I always liked that guy, Herb. Let's just say, I was fond of him. I respected him as a colleague.
Yet now, my once good feelings for him have nosedived.
Of course, I was attracted to you, Hey, your allure, it tempted me! The way you stood, You naturally knew how to complement your height. You made yourself demure, such poise. You bent your left knee slightly forward, Then tilted your shoulders from the waist Settling them downwards just a smidgen to the right. And that smile of yours, allow me to say it, You were gorgeous, and I always favored a brunet.
Not to forget your intelligence, hands down, You, why you were the smartest woman I had ever met!
Nonetheless, propriety required I not make a move. I was Herb's friend, How would you expect me to behave?
And you must recall? You do remember, don't you? No doubt about it, I had been otherwise engaged, Let's just say, I was a very busy man!
You might not have realized my busyness's full extent; Facts are, I had been occupied on too many fronts.
I know. I know. I missed the bus. The train had left the station. I had my chance. Passed on what very well might have been... Good Lord, when I think about it, the splendid opportunities, How had I allowed so much to go by, Happiness and achievement, the years of them!
Look. I am putting this on record. The facts are the facts. It had not been my fault, I swear! It was that Herb, he had blocked my way, He puffed himself up and proudly took the stance, Made it clear that silly me, you were his. Believe me! I still picture this moment, today.
I do not really care for the fellow anymore, Even the thought of him bothers me. I don’t even like repeating his name. Yet now it amounts, my feelings unchanged, And as you have already told me, it is forty years later!
I want it known, the world to know, Now and forever, my regret, How could I have missed the chance -- That I might have shared love and time with you, Too much to bear. but please, understand! Just gimmie a break. Don’t blame me! I swear to it! It was him. He stood in my way.
Though once a friend, I really have no regard for that guy anymore, zero, no, Not a bit. The thought of him gets my stomach sick. By the way, given one of my chief faults of character, I am unlikely to hear of any ameliorating circumstance.
