sunflowers in a
vase on a black enamel
purple irises
dying in a vase
shriveling to black
bowing over losing
petals onto the
black enameled table
sunflowers in a
vase on a black enamel
table, nodding to the
shiny top, raining
yellow powder pollen
in semicircular spray.
roses turning purple
from red and moist
drying to sharper spines
leaves falling to swim
in the water in the vase
remove flowers, remove
rotting baby's breathe
tie a bit of twine at the
base of the stem and hang
them up alongside all the
red roses frozen in long
testimony of love lost
table, nodding to the
shiny top, raining
yellow powder pollen
in semicircular spray.
roses turning purple
from red and moist
drying to sharper spines
leaves falling to swim
in the water in the vase
remove flowers, remove
rotting baby's breathe
tie a bit of twine at the
base of the stem and hang
them up alongside all the
red roses frozen in long
testimony of love lost
sunflowers in a
vase on a black enamel
purple irises
dying in a vase
shriveling to black
bowing over losing
petals onto the
black enameled table
sunflowers in a
vase on a black enamel
table, nodding to the
shiny top, raining
yellow powder pollen
in semicircular spray.
roses turning purple
from red and moist
drying to sharper spines
leaves falling to swim
in the water in the vase
remove flowers, remove
rotting baby's breathe
tie a bit of twine at the
base of the stem and hang
them up alongside all the
red roses frozen in long
testimony of love lost
table, nodding to the
shiny top, raining
yellow powder pollen
in semicircular spray.
roses turning purple
from red and moist
drying to sharper spines
leaves falling to swim
in the water in the vase
remove flowers, remove
rotting baby's breathe
tie a bit of twine at the
base of the stem and hang
them up alongside all the
red roses frozen in long
testimony of love lost
Man-eaters pass:
Larger, drabber, more oppressive
Than on the aerated surface.
Yet, the great column of water above
Places me in the snug warmth
Of a mother's womb.
Reassured in this salty bath
Of aquamarine and the fluttering silver
Of slender eyeless fish
and brown drab eels,
Foraging under great shelves
of cragged coral.
Neutral buoyancy.
Mastering the physics of the deep,
The breath of depth;
The most delicious air
Fills my lungs to saturation.
The seduction of the underworld
Glides in a reality unreal,
Disorienting to this surface-dweller:
An absence of gravity, a magnified
Presence.
Never wanting to come off
I take hit after hit;
The narcosis of this depth
Is frightening, addictive.
Bubbled mercury rises as I blow
Hard into my second stage.
I grip my jaw into the salty
Spongy rubber mouth-piece,
Shutting eyes tight,
Shaking off the numbing
Water.
The glowing face of a gauge
Announces that the end is coming.
I will rise soon, making sure
I can see the mirrored bubbles
Pass my ascent.
As I look up light glimmers through
The great water separating me
From the sky.
Man-eaters pass:
Larger, drabber, more oppressive
Than on the aerated surface.
Yet, the great column of water above
Places me in the snug warmth
Of a mother's womb.
Reassured in this salty bath
Of aquamarine and the fluttering silver
Of slender eyeless fish
and brown drab eels,
Foraging under great shelves
of cragged coral.
Neutral buoyancy.
Mastering the physics of the deep,
The breath of depth;
The most delicious air
Fills my lungs to saturation.
The seduction of the underworld
Glides in a reality unreal,
Disorienting to this surface-dweller:
An absence of gravity, a magnified
Presence.
Never wanting to come off
I take hit after hit;
The narcosis of this depth
Is frightening, addictive.
Bubbled mercury rises as I blow
Hard into my second stage.
I grip my jaw into the salty
Spongy rubber mouth-piece,
Shutting eyes tight,
Shaking off the numbing
Water.
The glowing face of a gauge
Announces that the end is coming.
I will rise soon, making sure
I can see the mirrored bubbles
Pass my ascent.
As I look up light glimmers through
The great water separating me
From the sky.
A crescendo of response, up like
Tides under the moon.
Kettledrum pulse, sudden resurgence like
Minds detour into mazes as eyes close;
Mouths search. Skin meets, its contact
Fosters the need to devour
Swallow
Absorb --
To break the physical and meet the
Need.
A crescendo of response, up like
Tides under the moon.
Kettledrum pulse, sudden resurgence like
Minds detour into mazes as eyes close;
Mouths search. Skin meets, its contact
Fosters the need to devour
Swallow
Absorb --
To break the physical and meet the
Need.
winds the isles rarely see.
it is all anyone talks about,
these winds, the cold air,
their jackets and sweaters.
i press lotion into the skin
of her back. we laugh and speak
like blue bloods, jaws clenched,
reading from a book of fiction.
reading aloud for the sun, for
the wind, for each other, such
friends. such friendship to read
and sun, to bronze and feel
the cote d'azur on our flanks
in waikiki.
the book speaks french, the book
speaks english, and the words are
poetic, the words are absurd.
the novel calls itself surreal,
but it is self consciously erotic like
"the rose pulsates," "the skin is
nut brown," "the lover parts the
knees," "the smooth skin gives way
to fingers." out loud these words
are spoken and we laugh bright sunny
laughter.
Laughing at the absurdity of the erotic,
the protagonist taking many
lovers and weeping, always weeping,
for the sadness wells and pulsates
like her rose, like her chest, like
the surf lapping so near our
bare toes.
the air tastes especially
salty. i smell like a coconut.
she is so natural under the sun.
we laugh to ourselves that the
text is so hot we must swim.
we tip toe into the cold water
refreshed by the winds, these
uncommon winds, in hawaii.
slowly we enter. on tippy toes
en pointe like dancers. so slowly
making a quick dip agonizing, feeling
the sand give way to my feet. pulling
in tummies and wishing the winds to
cease and the water to turn bath like.
i am taller than she but she has the
leg advantage. water laps her hips.
stalemate. a count to three and away
to the bright orange windsock off shore.
swimming our heads bob, out further to
just before.
"this is where i stop, this is where
my fear of sharks begins. this is the
point past which i will be eaten alive."
we turn back, she sprints. i wallow
in the chop, having come from washington
days before. from the winter. her nut
brown skin, my pale white dough broiling.
i move my body through the saltiness, see
clarity when i open my eyes, feel my hair
wave like weeds across my forehead.
pulling myself from the water, i check
my bad washington knees -- they are strong
again. encore. il fait froid! mais non,
il fait beau -- it is always wonderful here.
winds the isles rarely see.
it is all anyone talks about,
these winds, the cold air,
their jackets and sweaters.
i press lotion into the skin
of her back. we laugh and speak
like blue bloods, jaws clenched,
reading from a book of fiction.
reading aloud for the sun, for
the wind, for each other, such
friends. such friendship to read
and sun, to bronze and feel
the cote d'azur on our flanks
in waikiki.
the book speaks french, the book
speaks english, and the words are
poetic, the words are absurd.
the novel calls itself surreal,
but it is self consciously erotic like
"the rose pulsates," "the skin is
nut brown," "the lover parts the
knees," "the smooth skin gives way
to fingers." out loud these words
are spoken and we laugh bright sunny
laughter.
Laughing at the absurdity of the erotic,
the protagonist taking many
lovers and weeping, always weeping,
for the sadness wells and pulsates
like her rose, like her chest, like
the surf lapping so near our
bare toes.
the air tastes especially
salty. i smell like a coconut.
she is so natural under the sun.
we laugh to ourselves that the
text is so hot we must swim.
we tip toe into the cold water
refreshed by the winds, these
uncommon winds, in hawaii.
slowly we enter. on tippy toes
en pointe like dancers. so slowly
making a quick dip agonizing, feeling
the sand give way to my feet. pulling
in tummies and wishing the winds to
cease and the water to turn bath like.
i am taller than she but she has the
leg advantage. water laps her hips.
stalemate. a count to three and away
to the bright orange windsock off shore.
swimming our heads bob, out further to
just before.
"this is where i stop, this is where
my fear of sharks begins. this is the
point past which i will be eaten alive."
we turn back, she sprints. i wallow
in the chop, having come from washington
days before. from the winter. her nut
brown skin, my pale white dough broiling.
i move my body through the saltiness, see
clarity when i open my eyes, feel my hair
wave like weeds across my forehead.
pulling myself from the water, i check
my bad washington knees -- they are strong
again. encore. il fait froid! mais non,
il fait beau -- it is always wonderful here.
her words on the screen. x-sender. x-reply. x-header. she at work, me putting off the rower. the words. "how can you remember all of this?" she asks, "or a you making it up as you go along?"
©1998 chris abraham ]]>her words on the screen. x-sender. x-reply. x-header. she at work, me putting off the rower. the words. "how can you remember all of this?" she asks, "or a you making it up as you go along?"
©1998 chris abraham ]]> Exploding boy!
The kid who wanted
To know it all;
He tried to cram infinity
Into his finite skull . . . .
Exploding boy!
He desired to possess the wisdom
Of all mankind,
But with the effort managed
Only to blow his mind . . . .
Exploding boy!
Were you not aware
That you cannot pursue, nor amass
Wisdom
Like one does knowledge?
That you can't become a sage
By taking hallucinogens, and
Going to college?
Oh,
Exploding boy!
When the books wouldn't
Take you there,
And the LSD
No longer shed new light,
And you felt your quest was leading
Nowhere,
Did you know that finally,
You were right?
But nowhere is everywhere
And everywhere is
Zen --
So all along you were right on track,
Right where you were supposed to have been . . . .
Oh, exploding boy . . . .
If only you would have stopped
Looking
And allowed yourself
To simply see,
Maybe, then,
You would have become wise --
Instead of just plum crazy . . . .
Exploding boy!
The kid who wanted
To know it all;
He tried to cram infinity
Into his finite skull . . . .
Exploding boy!
He desired to possess the wisdom
Of all mankind,
But with the effort managed
Only to blow his mind . . . .
Exploding boy!
Were you not aware
That you cannot pursue, nor amass
Wisdom
Like one does knowledge?
That you can't become a sage
By taking hallucinogens, and
Going to college?
Oh,
Exploding boy!
When the books wouldn't
Take you there,
And the LSD
No longer shed new light,
And you felt your quest was leading
Nowhere,
Did you know that finally,
You were right?
But nowhere is everywhere
And everywhere is
Zen --
So all along you were right on track,
Right where you were supposed to have been . . . .
Oh, exploding boy . . . .
If only you would have stopped
Looking
And allowed yourself
To simply see,
Maybe, then,
You would have become wise --
Instead of just plum crazy . . . .