Dejected,
I’ve looked high and low,
tread the Milky Way searching for answers,
lost my way in the winding snow,
now I stray here,
homeless and senseless.
Here, I drift with the winds as I cast
my eyes to the skies,
starless and bottomless,
I can change! Let me sweep the debris of the past
under the carpets of puddles.
Goodness, I pray you,
I have to see her!
I cannot go on any further without her!
I’ve poured my soul into the cold receiver,--
Listen to me!
I cannot love any louder!
Listen... listen, up there! Do you hear me?!
You, angels, hovering up above me,
do not lie to me,
tell me sincerely,
could she possibly learn to love me?
This Love
I
Quiet down my heart,
I’m confounded.
Over the mountains,
your trumpets
resound
too ardently.
The echo
of your verse
submerses me.
I beg of you,
“Mercy!”
My eardrums are bursting
nervously.
enough!
enough!
enough of this!
Enough of this love!
II
This love is outrageous,
I rage.
Without patience,
I rip open (my cage)
my ribcage,
and whistling,
tear my heart to pieces.
It’s ripe!
on each piece,
her initials are inscribed.
And senseless,
my eyes wander
endlessly
from N to T.
Submerged in thought,
destiny
pensively,
traces the road
from New York to Toronto
with a pencil.
III
Answer me,
“Is it in you?”
If your answer is “no,”
whisper
tenderly,
rip through my sinew
softly
and go.
If your answer is “yes,”
caress me
but once
with its stress
and leave me breathless...
...yes!
...do
...leave me deathless.
Answer me,
“Is this love in you?”
IV
I grow tense,
“Say it.”
Silence
ascends
skyward
with a prayer.
Bottomless
puddles
(those are your eyes)
reflect boundless
skies.
This love is beguiling,
smiling,
it hides
behind
the corner
of life’s corridor
and behind that corner,
there’s a coroner.
V
I feel like a foreigner,
I don’t belong here.
What is this that I crawl on?
All this fluff,
a cloud?
“That is my shroud.”
Almighty,
in this love,
I was buried alive.
There’s been a mistake,
I was taken
to paradise,
because she paralyzed
me with her eyes.
It’s too crowded here
and oddly,
I miss
my body.
“All right then...
awake!”
VI
I fall through the air
carelessly,
and awake
somewhere
on a bus
near Albany,
someone is calling me...
shaking me
impatiently.
“Sir,
I must
check your ticket.”
Enough!
just take it.
“Reason for your vacation?”
love...
“Destination?”
near her...
VII
Listen,
mirror,
can you hear me?
Hear my heartbeat?
I need her...
I need her
near me.
Reflect me
with affection
tenderly,
perfect
my identity,
whisper in my ear
and beguile me!
Smile
from above me
mildly.
Tell me
that she'll love me,
lie to me!
VIII
The heart is drained
and the ink
hasn’t dried yet.
Pull the shades lower.
It’s private,
don’t look over
my shoulder.
Too late to hide it,
it’s spilling,
it’s brimming over
the sink.
In wild convulsions,
it surges.
It floods the pages,
the streets, the churches,
the squares,
the courtyards
and Eden’s orchards.
I can’t contain it,
this love is gorgeous!
IX
Alighting
my soul
from above
with a thousand torches,
this love
scorches me!
It burns inside me
and tortures me!
The world
is too small
to hide me.
Now that you’ve nurtured me,
open your eyes!
On the crossroads,
I’m hanging exposed,
arms – crosswise
across the skies.
Only notice me
and I’ll arise…
The Muse
The purple haze burns into grayness.
The poet’s pleading to the muse,
“Let’s not use our lips for prayers,
For they have another use.”
But the playful muse still lingers,
Casting smiles from afar,
Holds his chords with nimble fingers
On the neck of her guitar…
Until the Sun Arises
I'm tired of people
wearing their tears
on their sleeves
like cufflinks,
banging their heads like cymbals,
beating out lifeless
syllables
of indifference.
You're different.
I caught a glimp
se of you --
simple
and laid back.
I found you -- a needle
in the haystack
of imbeciles.
Open your eyes now!
Allow me harbor you
in my arms
until the sun arises.
Then Olga smiled and said…
Then Olga smiled and said:
“Poetry’s easy to write, just find a vein and cut it…”
In the cold bathroom light,
like a martyr,
I bled
and laughed out loud, cold-blooded.
People walked by, grinning and mocking:
“Look at the freak!
lifting his pen like a razor!”
while my eyes reflected
black ink,
seeing something amazing!
Listen,
you English majors,
buried in your books like in funeral caskets,
with a line of my verse, I can open your cages,
just ask me!
With a swoop of my pen, I can set your souls free,
I can fill them with wisdom and honor…
there’s more life, there’s more hope, there’s more truth in me
than you’ll find in your best marijuana.
You, devout followers of corrupted religions,
reading your bibles, perplexed and puzzled,
open your ears as I recite my visions,
I’m
the Thirteenth Apostle.
And you! astronomers,
writing you last dissertations,
why don’t you gaze instead into the depths of my eyes?!
there you'll find more constellations
than you see in your clouded skies....
All of you,
Listen to me!
I’m your poet!
turn away from the turmoil of daily strife!
With rhyme and reason,
In a single moment,
I can explain to you the meaning of life!
Don’t you see how I’m stumbling,
coughing and wheezing,
practically fainting,
drained
and depleted?
Olga, -- I know that writing poetry’s easy!
but what is a poet without a reader?
Black and White
We examine our past recollections, --
Could it be that we’re losing our sight?
Recollections are like intersections,
Where the pavement is black and white.
There’s no use in bending the photos.
The old lamp will not shed any light.
There’s no color from corner to corner,
It is all black and white.
Birches twist with a sense of hysteria,
Swaying madly from left to right.
Dirt and snow, and a lone Cocker Spaniel;
It is all black and white.
Chalk on asphalt or ink on paper –
And no matter what verses we write,
It’s a masterpiece now, -- but later,
It is all black and white…
Catharsis through prayer…
Catharsis through prayer. You laugh at my misery.
Tears are trickling like a broken rosary...
Give me a reason before you imprison me.
Give me a cross before you expose me.
I drift like a ghost through the fog of September,
Leaving no footprints, -- no one will find me.
Goodness, forgive me before I surrender.
Give me my freedom before you confine me.
My robe weaves a noose, I’m losing my sanity.
The thorns of the crown cut my flesh to the bone.
Before you abandon me blossom inside of me...
And stay with me, Father, when I’m there all alone.
Casting smiles aside…
Casting smiles aside,
Thinking life is a bluff,
She just laughs when it hurts,
When it pains her to love.
She’s as light as the breeze,
Lifting souls when she flirts
And it pains her to love
And she laughs when it hurts.
Despair
You grope for the switch to turn the lights off.
Lighting a match, you pull the shades lower.
It’s nearly impossible to light up a clove,
A constant draft reaches you from the corner.
As you ash your cigarette into a plastic cup,
You reflect on the past, doleful and moody,
And all that’s left from the day is a ticket stub
From the theater you left half-way into the movie.
Seagull
Not that I have a lot to speak of,
But my tongue, God, is rather worn out,
So I cry by myself like a seagull,
Drink the sunlight that falls through the key-hole,
And continue to mumble out loud
(Not that I have a lot to speak of).
I’m alone here. I’m despised by people.
I don’t mind. I don’t fit in their crowd.
So I cry by myself like a seagull.
Give me wings and a rooftop to leap off
And I’ll soar up to heaven unbound!
Not that I have a lot to speak of,
But the prayers continue to seep through
Opened lips when there’s no one around,
So I cry by myself like a seagull.
Do You see the bell on the steeple?
That’s my soul! It is turned inside out,
Since I don’t have a lot to speak of,
Listen, God, for the cry of a seagull!
Fragments
I despise
The stereotypes of my generation,
Mannequins with artificial, glued-on smiles,
Getting high on Zoloft, writing equations
On the black holes of chalk-boards, meanwhile,
Life passes by like an ex in see-through
Marijuana smoke through their blood-shod eyes,
Through their pitch-dark rooms where the sun has ceased to
Arise.
I despise clocks and watches, but adore photos.
I adore memory for it’s filled with potholes,
Where the time freezes and expands like water,
I adore puddles.
I adore reflections, but despise shadows,
On the pale white walls that attract them like magnets.
I despise emptiness for it makes things shallow,
I adore fragments.
Harlem
The storm is upon us.
The tower of Babel is plummeting down.
Each crack in the sidewalk hears thunder through silence.
Insomnia’s eyelids are opened like coffins.
I’m sipping my coffee.
The winds off the rooftops resound like organs.
This orchestra’s rage sweeps the notes off the page.
I’m scared and I’m silent.
I’m biting my nails --
My body turns pale up on the cross.
My blood slowly fills the potholes of Harlem:
I’m hungry, forgotten, dejected and lost...
Ophelia
You filled my heart! I loved you ardently.
I gave you all, you disregarded me...
How are you feeling now?
I'm your Ophelia.
"Get to a nunnery!"
Was that your order?
There was no room for me
I chose the water.
And to the brook, my love,
I rushed in slippers.
How fast the moon above
Dissolved in ripples!
Your words encouraged me. I did it urgently
And I was purified. I’m re-emerging now.
Am I appealing now?
I'
m your Ophelia.
32B Panorama
The Christmas Spirit renders everything pretty.
The nearing headlights turn I - 95
Into a golden strand from the head of the city,
As the busy-bee cars swarm away from the hive.
Christmas tree decorations are a thing of the past.
Let the G. W. B. illumine the ceiling
And position the star on top of the mast
Of the tall, evergreen Empire State Building!
Melancholy
It’s been snowing three days but the snow won’t stick.
The warmth indoors fogs the kitchen window
And your patience grows shorter than the candle’s wick,
Shorter than daylight in the months of winter.
You can look at family albums, do the dishes, weave,
Or meditate by yourself in front of the television,
But you still feel the draft, which makes your teeth
Drown out the rattle of doors and dishes.
You can drink hot chocolate beneath a blanket, or
Stare into the fireplace till you’re calm and nerveless,
Still the silhouette that your body casts on the floor
Trembles more than the amber flames in the furnace.
You can leaf through calendars to your soul’s content,
But, alas, even time can’t ease you of this melancholy
Since the anguish you feel reaches deeper than
The wind’s sharpest chill, deeper than winter’s folly.
Moonlit Night
The game is ending.
It's going to be over
soon.
And now, He has a chance to run the table.
Behind the cue-ball of the moon,
Almighty's aiming for the eight-ball.
Desperate
This love is desperate when you embrace me,
And it is desperate when you embrace me not,
And loving you like this, I fear I’m going crazy,
Thus feels an atheist who fears that there’s no God.
Moment
“Seriousness, young man, is an accident of time. It consists, I don’t mind telling you in confidence, in putting too high a value on time... In eternity, however, there is no time, you see. Eternity is a mere moment, just long enough for a joke.”
-- Hermann Hesse,
“The Steppenwolf”
I dreamt of Goethe. The poet
Said to me before I awoke,
“Eternity is but a mere moment,
Just long enough for a joke.”
Ages passed, the Greeks and the Romans,
Are all but a painter’s stroke.
Eternity is but a mere moment,
Just long enough for a joke.
I pondered, sipping my coffee
And inhaling cigarette smoke,
“Eternity is but a mere moment,
Just long enough for a joke.”
I met you, ambling homeward,
And whispered to you as we walked,
“Our love is merely a moment,
Just long enough for a joke.”
Startled, you responded with laughter,
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