perceptive projection

we are summer drunk;

'tween moments of despair, our

hearts dance brilliantly. 

How to Smile
.
There are dreams that always in blue, fragments
imprinted with sorrow. The hint of goodbyes in airports,
the last notes on piano clench the throat. Our bodies
.
already refugees huddling below bounderies. Otherwise autumn ---
tends to fall to winter, bridged by rain and wind
into frost. Sometimes, we tragically spiral down
.
into characters in books, unending chapter
after chapter, how to escape from a train wreck,
to walk slowly without turning back, our bones
.
are pensive and pale, splitting a name
to a name, in your body, in your heart. You say
I always have this dream, where somewhere
.
in the back of memory, a smile is
waiting to happen, forcing all the nightmares
to come to the surface, to burst, then disappear.

.
C. 2'07

that afternoon I

dreamt, breeze spoke secrets, captured

between pages of

a diary, the wind coloured

as ink, forgotten through time.

September: the sky transforms
into dozens of birds.

 

a sparrow takes flight -
blossoms forgotten, the world
then catches fire: fall.  

 

 

 

Went to a poetry reading at Barnes and Nobles on the Fifth. It was supposed to be at Bryant's Park Reading Room, but it was raining almost non-stop since morning.

He is the newest US' Poet Laureate, btw. Number fifteen.

 

The reading was lovely.

 

A sample of what he read:

 

Paradise Motel

by Charles Simic 

Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
In a mirror my face appeared to me
Like a twice-canceled postage stamp.

I lived well, but life was awful.
there were so many soldiers that day,
So many refugees crowding the roads.
Naturally, they all vanished
With a touch of the hand.
History licked the corners of its bloody mouth.

On the pay channel, a man and a woman
Were trading hungry kisses and tearing off
Each other's clothes while I looked on
With the sound off and the room dark
Except for the screen where the color
Had too much red in it, too much pink.

.
He sang for you, so beautifully
that somehow you saw him trapped
in a cage.
.
He no longer sings, his wings move erratically
everytime you get too near. You do the only thing you can:
.
release him.
.      
.
C. 2'07

summer is a song

fixtured in your eyes, startled

into desire. 

 

.
To begin with, the stories never started together,
even after years, the patterns were always in twos,
two separate worlds. I kept finding myself
wanting to merge the worlds, only found myself
apart again. Nobody mentioned anything
about courage, measured endlessly.
.
Nobody said anything about patience required
forever. All along, I thought love was
the only requirement, and perhaps a bit
of far flung dreams in the letters
of our names stitched together.
.
Then I woke in the dark to a world
of broken things, where silence became
a scientific art to avoid a fragile path
to collapse completely, all other sound,
even a ragged heart, had disappeared
round the corner to hide.
.
What could anyone do, but to illustrate
a woman who swallowed a sliver,
a fragment of a crushed dream,
and gone deep into herself
and became less and less.   
.
C. 2'07

In You [the reasons| Love Poem I Don't Want to Write ]

.
I saw the sun,
      infinite flame of warmth.
I saw the moon,
      infinite longing fragmented in silver solitude.
I saw the earth,
      vibrant life in multitudes of imperfecttions.
I saw the stars,
      lessons on objects still sparkled even viewed from a distance.
I saw the day,
      brightly lit happiness, honest and absolute.
I saw the night,
      despair sandwiched between wounds and heartaches, secreted away.
I saw poetry,
      the unsaid formed between words and caesura.
I saw prose,
      two lives exploded into a story.     
I saw physics,
      bodies never knew how to lie.
I saw chemistry,
      passion for all season that could make everything right.
I saw magic,
      a blaze, private between the two of us.
I saw reality,
      calligraphed differences bloomed into wreckages.
I saw a journey,
      difficult paths stretched far into the horizon.
I saw a home,
      safe haven from life stormy weather and compounding grieves.
I saw time,
      filled with missing you, endless and forever.
I saw mortality,
      filled with time spent with you, so short and fleeting.
I saw a friend,
      a soothing voice that understood, a salvation.
I saw an archenemy,
      wounds inflicted with precisions.
I saw beauty,
      even broken souls had their charms.
I saw ugliness,
      misunderstanding translated, hurled without boundaries or remorse.
I saw my laughters,
      everlasting sound of bless and gratitude.
I saw my tears,
      unbidden well sprung from joy and pain.
I saw my doubt,
      of impossible dreams learned in dismay.
I saw my faith,
      a belief held fast for miracles to bridge the impossibles.
I saw my religion,
      beyond rosary and whispered prayers.
I saw elements,
      of truth, lies, honest love, honest hate.
I saw myself,
      my frail strength, my many weaknesses.
I saw the universe,
      constellation fully unfolded.
I saw my life,
      encompassed by everything, was complete.

.
C. 2'07