I turn to glass--
don't touch!
I can deflect emotion
but not much
the past closes behind
leaving a choice
a tossed-off bottle
leaking dregs of time
or stem crystal
burst by a voice
Jet-Storm
For my daughter
You have flown off
leaving an empty airport
at six a.m.
the aura of your presence
swept away
wing-lights flash and fade
scaling dawn sky
you catapult the zenith
arrowing west
and I turn back
to wintry houses
in a dented car
Caribbean
a turtle's lower jaw
the huge blue contour
of the turning world
splendor of clouds like hair
fine combed
sweep carelessly in sky
merging to night
wildly beating sea birds
careen like moths in floodlights
stingrays hover
at sand line
in gently pulsing surf
on the stone pavilion
amid a storm of laser motes
we dance, we dance
Departure Eve
I want to remember
the soft wind
lights of Cancun
across the bay
bright walls
and living chambers
of the sea
women lovelier
than saffron blossoms
flowering bougainvillea
in alchemy of silks
and ribbons
elusive
achingly desired
Storm Watch
Areas of depression
scattered across the Heartland
spirals of dry leaves
whipped to tall funnels
roiling black clouds
a landscape of flash-points
utterance of thunder...
the neo-Nazi, Stormfront,
on the farm porch
angry, failed men
with rowdy skinhead sons
riding the edge of turbulence
into the heartland.
Stock the cellar
with candles, food, water
guns and shells
against the coming ice-storms
against the frigid cold
the wind chill factor
Mood
in extreme evening
raw smell of grass
limp leaves
melted slate-green scales
old magazines in porch light
empty Adirondack chair
deserted house
drifts on the dying year
Seven A.M.
cold now
we are estranged
first rays highlight
chrome toaster
bike pedal
sugar bowl
on wall
grasshopper
a folded leaf
on window
dragonfly
a jeweled, clear winged
brooch
dog snores
on sofa opposite
eye-slits fixed on me
staring in sleep
Harbor
full moon
blazing phosphorus
Venus climbing
flush of sunset rouge
silver canals
set with a few lost skiffs
stranded in ebb tide
old men in derelict cars
scowling at stars that will return
when they have sunk
below the mud of time
a quiet layering of seasons
folding the latest on the last
soft summer air
Parsifal (after Wagner)
The King:
whose phallus
maims the man
and blights the land
unhealing wound
crazy desire
basts all
The Cup:
vaginal urn of birth
brimming with blood
fountaining radiance
of grace
The Fool:
armored in innocence
learning passion's power
from one taste
of a harlot's tongue
fuses the charred fragments
of the spear
restores the crown
The Spear:
Amfortas
humbled by impotence
purified by pain
worthy again to serve the Grail
healed by the same spear touch,
finally understands
love is the deepest wound
Diner Booth
side by side
in summer shorts
bare legs graze
their surface hairs
crackling with charge
the unreachable imago
whose smile lights the world
only inches away
while on my spirit map
one inch
equals a thousand miles
Recognition
I too felt the riveting instant
of masks half-lowered
to reveal
transparent eyes
of selves exposed
beyond biography
worlds realigned
beneath the barely rippled
surface of words
Last Meeting
for Carole
the love that never was
in sudden ending
in fog and rain
accepts the rending
that deletes the cause
accepts the pain
too soon into my world
she sped
figure in aura
fire too bright to know:
breathless attempt to follow where she led
always a step behind, a beat too slow
until my clumsy shadow broke the flow
I stumbled, chafed her ankle
and she fled
Mirage
still I pursue
the woman, Carole,
who is and is not Carole
who in a flash
embodies her
a shimmering congruence
I cherish in my arms
till she streaks back
to the periphery...
a dream of Carole
Anima
perpetual angel of my solitude
siren of my abolished memory
you pierce the liquid glass
to join your semblance
phantom and flesh converge
in breathless focus
almost too late
I strive to be the man
I must create
Through a Galilean Telescope
starlike
you swept through
my lonely orbit
grabbed by your field
I felt my speed increasing
swiftly, swiftly
flung toward the bright galaxies!
the light that blinded me
poured from behind my eyes
as I caught fire
Encounter
she is a spear
flung fiercely
faster than thought
piercing all preparation
a truth that leaves me paralyzed
impaled on the tree of life
whose fruit rains down
like diamonds
at my feet
Apartment Houses
red-rough
gray-striped
walls of dream
how far
far back
words echo
against brick
In Twilight: After Eliot
1
condos across the water
clusters of glowing tiles
a radiant fist of cloud
grabs peso moon
then opens to a stage
backdropped by stars
exhilaration of old age
and rendezvous
at the last milestone
in glare of alien light
gramophone needle
floats on polished vinyl
turntable of galaxies
the isolation of
and in the flesh
2
a dream of trains
clatter of wheels
clash of all things
chafing
relaxed bodies
choral sway of speed
let the wrecked cargoes
rot on ocean floors
let wild baboons
devour
rags of past
let me turn face to fore
turn love to fire
the sea-wash freshening
from the ship's apron
pathing with luminous shadow
Atlantic darkness
cradled by glowing waters
Solitaire: Homage to Yvor Winters
if love is a game
that plays out in time
for the purpose of mind
they are nearly the same
time sunders the elements
love seeks to bind
when love is abandoned
death is the game
love shimmers in memory
bleaches in time
my loss is my gain
when remorse is the law
we bet precious hours
to win perfect pain
fruition is balance
we play to a draw
Regret
days don't foreshadow
selves unfolding
wrongs
beyond redemption
tears
the desperate instant
love withholding
haunts us
for a thousand years
© Copyright, 2-2-97 Martin A. Abramson. All rights reserved.
© Copyright 2-2-97 Martin A. Abramson. All rights reserved.