Tag Archives: HOPES

BECAUSE PICASSO COULD DRAW .. .

because Picasso could draw .. .  ..                                                       the battle scene lay behind us  the … Continue reading

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AURORA-METEOR FLASH LIGHTS UP MY SKY .. .

Aurora Meteor Flash Lights Up My Sky .. . .. . …. when late skies of the aurora part there is no feeling in my hands no senses running through me death is a dim cloud descending like cold water … Continue reading

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THE NIGHT POOL .. .

the night pool .. . The intoxication, purity  linseed oil of turpentinecreamy ash the palette  your peacock feathersfronds, alien and falling  from the wet-warm night skyand in the morning  I build again a stairwaystartling, parting airwaves  concave to your heartbirds-foot … Continue reading

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SERGEI .. .

SERGEI .. . Remember well full histories   homeland, where we learned   and lived as children born   to cultures sworn both Russian   as the czar, severe the priests   incense-driven, strict religion I learned to play piano … Continue reading

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HONESTLY .. .

honestly .. . .. I wandered by my hometown station no trains run anymore they dug up the track there is an antique dealer there he opens up on three days a week to sell old things not chicken wings … Continue reading

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HOWL TWiCE .. .

Howl Twice .. . We met this side of dawn neat satchels on our backs to search and find Zanadu people knew as East Ewell in what was known then as ‘the stockbroker belt’ of the sprawl that was Lond-on … Continue reading

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THE BICKER WOMEN .. .

THE BICKER WOMEN .. . Who wears best this shawl of uncertainty  whose mind is trained of fears furrowto bow at noon – the bells of the Angelus  when blackened clouds of hell descendaround the fair shoulders of the puissant  … Continue reading

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PERIWINKLE MEETS INDIGO and THEY HAVE CHILDREN .. .

Periwinkle meets Indigo and they have children .. . . . There is a gap in the cloud today     where the ink has run and stained the sky the most perfect blue where rain falls through     … Continue reading

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TAKING BACK HARLEM .. .

. .. taking back Harlem .. . . I stood on the girder-bridge where cold grey water passes wiped my tear-stained face tried to clear the mote stuck ote’ my eye I have never been to Harlem The Clyde she … Continue reading

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MOLUSCS and SHELLS

MOLUSCS  and  SHELLS .. . . We address the condition of a nation by its social order the position of its women in spite of any lenience a Mother Mary in plaster a Sinatra’s daughter Is she dead,, or is … Continue reading

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