(Collage by Suzi Dennis)
“And ungraspable multitudes swarm, come together
in the crinkles of tree bark, in the telescope’s eye,”
. (Czeslaw Milosz)
What veil is lifted when we first see
love,
not as a gift – or worse: A prize
but as a play of light, catching or
caught
on the wings of a bird that has
no knowledge of ideas or
destiny.
Not even thought [...]
“while below, the foghorns bend to their work,
bringing home what is coming home,
blessing what goes.”
. (Jane Hirshfield)
I can remember that I read to you.
November, it was – in Prague, of course.
You were sitting in that chair
with the Communist upholstery,
that creaked each time you moved
to pick up a stitch (creaking like
the masts of [...]
“We could never really say what it is like,
this hour of drinking wine together”
. (Sharon Olds)
You never knelt before me,
drying my feet with your hair
but then I never claimed
to be a Saviour.
The water that we drank
may have been wine
but how should we have noticed,
with our flesh and shadows
melted and [...]
There are no footsteps.
No one will come.
. (Kate Rhodes.)
Before, I was afraid
of everything that might
be hidden in the dark.
I always feared I’d stumble
upon truth: Something
the night would fail to hide -
a pattern that might half reveal
the distance measured between breaths,
between the birth and death of stars
as nothing – as the space
between two [...]
“and anger is no more than some old clock
ringing to itself in ancient ruins”
. (Selima Hill)
I did not set out to be saved
or kept inside the prison of your
arms, the stern appraisal of
your mind.
If I am guilty, I am so
because I dared to dream
that you would not hold up
such mirrors.
As it is – and as [...]
(For M.)
The bed, still warm,
still holds on to the smell of you;
your imprint on the pillow
my holy Turin shroud,
while you, now mirror bound,
applying make-up,
remind me of self-portraits
by Rembrandt and Frans Hals.
It is funny and quite humbling to admit
that lipstick, eye-liner, mascara
bring out your beauty more convincingly
than all my poems ever will.
Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
Flocks of birds drop from the sky.
They cling to the branches of trees,
replacing fallen leaves with song,
before resuming their long journeys.
(I am tree)
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en [...]
l
Can revelation ever be a mercy?
To leave your house,
like Saul, to head out for
Damascus - and be blinded…
To claim that God (or
finding God) is love may
be as much acknowledgement as
revelation: That both destroy old worlds.
ll
Love may become a habit
that you learn to wear
and to take care of - like
refugees, who leave one element,
may learn to [...]
Could I undress you
with one word,
one look,
that word (or look)
would need to last
a thousand years
to do you justice.
Walking through the streets
with all these dreams and ghosts,
caught by a shiver of moon,
a passing cloud -
a passing moment of perfection
in a sigh of stars,
that bathe me
in their distant glory.
Walking through the streets,
my heart a waiting murmur,
my lips now pause for breath,
one word: your name -
and now the night
(this miracle,
transformed)
is made of new beginnings.
Walking [...]
Tonight I’ll disconnect the phone
and lock all doors
and close the curtains.
It will be me and my TV,
some sushi maybe
and some wine.
The couch and comfy cushions
now a small tropical island
in a sea of quiet bliss.
I’ll start with something light
and frothy - something
that will make me smile:
‘Arsenic and Old Lace’ or
‘Beauty and the Beast‘,
‘Great Expectations’ maybe,
before [...]
The glamour of your face,
your hair now loosened in dark waves:
the sudden rightness of these moments -
all of me now here in trembling awe,
kneeling (praying)
tongue-tied to your flesh
and rising heat.
(I need - I need so much to see you,
taste you on my skin,
embrace you
and lay waste to years of caution,
soft despair and waiting.)
The earth-bound magic [...]
(I can see the shape of your dreaming
and touch the stem of your breath.)
Your lips surround me now.
You take me in,
like flames that taste
the heart of the wood,
and words on skin
or bone-carved flutes,
like a shock of warmth,
as the butcher’s hand
or a priest holds up
the heart of the Lamb.
Your lips surround me now.
You take me in.
(I [...]
The grain of the wood,
fastened and softened
by time and breath;
these pebbles so smooth,
coated and left with
the silk of dead waves -
and you, all of you, your flesh
so awake to my longing, my touch,
are more beautiful yet
than all these reminders
that night will embrace us
and change us in time.
Waking to the moment of your touch
I hold my breath and body
like an altar, like a kiss.
(I want to hold your breath
upon my tongue; I want to
weigh your touch upon my skin.)
As the light needs an horizon
to submit its colours
to the weight of night
(I want your eyes on me,
all over me,
your lips to take me [...]
You’re like a Rembrandt,
painted on the edges of slow
moving, moonlit clouds,
a promise that the world
is full of wonders,
new beginnings and encounters.
My love, you’re all the stories
that will start
tomorrow or tonight,
and all the waiting
turned to soft applause
and laughter,
all the moments that are
left for me to love and
hold you till the end of light.
And when it ends
it grows so quiet.
Logic has a weight to it
and so does magic.
Love,
when it is gone,
moves beyond time
and distance
and it grows so quiet.
Some journeys start like stories,
some like dreams.
(I can see the shape of your dreaming
and touch the hem of your breath;
these sheets, dressed in darkness,
touching your flesh.)
Strange journeys,
strange frontiers,
where some things end in stories,
others move like dreams.
(I can’t see my skin
through these fields of you;
all my seasons bound
to a touch of you.)
God (but you are beautiful)
I whisper,
half afraid to breathe
or close my eyes.
So beautiful
(and here with me)
and I am old
and I am hungry (lonely)
and not used
to worlds of wonder.
Come.
(She comes to me.)
And I am naked and I die
a miracle of dreams.
Dreaming,
cold and beautiful,
winter is back home again
in Prague,
like ghosts of lovers,
cigarettes and smiles,
the smell of beer
in crowded cellar bars,
the darkening rooms
and shadow time -
everything now reaching
for this sleepy, soft embrace.
The bridges rise in magic shapes
of rounding dreams
and coming back to where
the one you want is waiting.
My love, all of my dreaming
must be like the [...]