Newark Bay lifts in secret
The winds of southerly
Now zephyrs of times’ past
Howling starving streams of an Eastern light
Through the farthest Western gate
Smart to breathe so deep and fast
As the waters have arisen
Battering the sills
A golden fate on Russian snowdrifts
The sadness was a nip sweeter
To journey on by train
And allow the time to marinate
A patience we once knew
At last the supper last is true
We can foresee to the horizon
A second coming post the colors’ fall
A pale face in resurrection
Why so gaunt?
Has the fast wrought so deep into the breath of intellect
Has rendered impotent?
A message sheathed in ice
For the people we once love
To melt into an imagined scant
Only the wrapped arms of dear Old Europe
Can offer celibate
The Western set Far Eastern dance so still
Alone alone he moved himself
To an offering a heartbeat
The release was as imminent
And he fell on just a moment
Preyed by candlelight sonata
As for the wind just keeps on battering
On high westerly cantata
She is flickering out an ocean
Do you see the river flowing?
The wisdom of a broken trust
Is not at all a wisdom
As it would rather scant exist
Self effacing
And the wisdom is a farce
That on counterpoint decrees it
Lost to the world outside
A river blowing howls downwind
So soft spoken in its utterance
The (air-lines) of Newark port
Scatter dreams across the world
A memory (ought/might) taste so sweet
I can (nestle/nibble) it unfurl
And the voices have ceased calling
The souls of passions lame
In the flickering material
I’ve chanced the dread too late
An aching hollow pure distilled
Alone alone at last
Had falls’ a minimal
A celebrity in white
Purring at the gate
I want a flight from Newark
Of cordial glass stairs croaking heavens’ late
A parched dismemberment
Mumbling eerie fate
Epitome concurrent
With the peaks of sunny straits
The conquistadors of enlightenment
Spiriting discreet
Travelers of the setting suns
Touching base in Siberia
Where the Far East laps
A most distant neighbor
And rises shoots up from the tundra
The brick city conduit
Herein a free air would have buried seeds
For eternity
An industry never to repose
On the currents of free market swells
Rather fights in bitter freeze
Against the concrete entropy
Existential plateau
A tidal pool of crevice
Waiting on the winter crack
To emancipate the rose blush scent
Of flowering empiricism
Lacerating angelic elegies
My imagination is waning
And when I look out upon the window
I see a figment of world as pure concept
As an image that’s been gone
An ignorance that burns
A knowledge that flies so far and wide
As to just disappear
Skating on thin ice
Beneath an origami star
Held so fragile dear
Though I must fear
That she’s unfolding far too brief
Changing hands immediate
Wherein the market sets her pace
Slipping the weathered hands of industry
And falling tides from grace
A golden dust of snow
Remembers well the Bay of San Francisco
Setting sail on tides too low
Wings breakered ’pon cliff’s jagged face
Touching base a crucifix well battered
Anticipating the brick oven
A city of angels fallen latter
Mon Alouette,
Be my guard on this still (steppe/
Step hesitant to fathom)?
He tangoed with a Catolic reality
Hath been branded heart and mind
And pinch of soul
The Renaissance man
Au François
Popular pomp is a dilettante
A proper wisdom knows it foolish
Thinking wise
As secrets are like seers
Prefer to be dark lights of ambient thought
Than coy eyes of aging knowledge
Please excuse my devils’ advocacy
My imagination is a Slavic ghost
Basking peels of romance languages
The Mediterranean green
A whitened sun
A waking dream of being woken
From (insanity/jabberwocky)
By a once lover
The cordial brevity
Much too dry for my tongue
Our only kiss my muse
Rape me
Fuck me
Pierce me
So that my fury flows once more
And I can burn at last
The flags of my fantasized countrymen
Abandoning the solidarity of our childhoods
Love once was and for all
For empty rooms
We sleep no more
Come on you once were lovers
Now make a scene the spheres can sing
Was an ode to shame modernity
The truest avant garde
Gouging copulation
A gruesome abstracting
Bodies mangled in the passions
Trailing innards on the canvas
A cannibal’s milieu
Any man can give his blood
But to this love would give it to?
This razor thin does dance
Blades’ Shakespearean tragedy
The wanton lust for lovebirds’ song
In the desert a corpse of language
Flittering trivials of the romance
As life comes manifest
I grew tired of the mainland tug
I wanted rather many rivers to clothe me
Unfolding the crystal of true heart
The Platonic essence of transparency
Out damn bloody spot!
My lady invites my once lover’s mole
If severed an endless swell
Tainted Va Lázni
The feast of the angels’ opaque
Šialenstvo
All things settle on the brink of fall
The silhouette a gentleman
Hung for madness’ sake
As poets do
Mica, mica, parva stella,
Mozart Annishka
The starry flocks of liberty
Dobre Večer Sterrenacht
Iron bound thanks God the rain
Does settle us this beauty
The swans the dark and light
Convening on the golden grey
(In mask/en masse)
And we drew an ace from fortunes’ drift
To chance the moment of our rhapsody
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