lunes

DREAMSCAPES

 



Dusting off the shrine of a goddess 

I forgot her name.

She blessed me once

 in light blue robe, golden nimbus

and myrtle blooms

when I was an outcast 

in an outcast country


(I forgot its name too)


*


A woman in the nude dances

on top of a beached whale in summer,

massive whale as the full moon

on the horizon. A sitar is playing

some kind of monsoon ballad

before a bonfire and silent gannets.

It's eventide. The full moon in yellow dress

dances with the naked woman.


*

 

I come across a top hat

in the middle of the street

dancing with a stray cat

in black fur and yellow feet.


The top hat hops me a scowl,

the cat spins me around a smile,

and the moon waxing awhile

in the golden eye of an owl.


The stray cat nimbly runs away

when some foxes bark to the top

hat now flying up on his way

to the hand of a whistling cop.


 

Under an opaline sky

a wolf not famished 

but philosophical

strolls along the beach. 

Likewise an odd man

 in golden raincoat

 and black beret.

He's the poet of the village

 and never speaks

except to the pebbles, 

the rainbows

and the wandering wolf.



In fine fettle the old lion

Still holds up the sun

with his mane at dawn.





martes

POEM

 

What saves me of topping myself today:

my cat doing a handstand by the window,

Dalida singing Bambino at dawn,

the last spoor of kiss you left on my stubble,

the beauty of contrails streaming along the blue sky,

the smell of horse manure in the streets, 

the fulsome warbles of a thrush in the morning,

the siren-cry of ambulances that carry not my corpse,

the rain-scented beams of the sun,

that William Carlos Williams' line:

the night passes, and never passes,

the loud laughing of mum in 1978

while sawing at her Singer,

the last smile you blew like a feather

into the air before waving a fond adieu,

the last spoor of kiss

 you left on my dirty stubble...


Love passes and never passes.