The Duel
How naïve and toward does the lover
With an old torn hat borrow from incantations
To make himself a sinner from a bath;
A sign of a cross
Living backwards; the river lusting for the sea
(Tricked by evaporation and bird shit)
Only the smiles condense back to the source of her
But what does he see rushing down and down?
And the sea can only rise and fall with the moon
The only true love in the solar circles:
Gravity of mountains mixed with the mystery
Of stardust craters and rockets.
Egregious grass and metal flowers slice
Dice; dance and fall, living backwards,
Fighting time
. . . for a dime . . . to pine . . . to dine . . .
Ridiculous . . . yet it flows
Like that obstinate river into that timeless sea
And he asks again and again: “was it she?”
Was it She?
Talking of Michelangelo they fool
His mirrored mind that sings to buttercups,
Ironing shirts with starch, and cleaning teapots.
What a silly boy that will never man!
Why to man?
Because They say you must. You must!
I refuse. I refuse relentlessly waiting
For the girl who will never woman:
Smoking sorrow and daffodils
Gliding barefoot over the ashphalt
A tricycle maiden with striped socks
Peering over glasses she doesn’t need . . .
Firmament and providence rally in revolution
Of divine paint whitewashing tires
Paralyzing history with a spatter;
Of long knobby fingers dipping in a child’s jar.
Neha says:
As always… Beautiful… Am spell bound. It’s so beautiful that I wouldn’t want to haze it’s aura that is so delicately surmounting everything real and fictitious…
May 22nd, 2007 at 09:40 pm