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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
May 2005
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Saturday, 7. May 2005

One Or Two Words



Suntaxis: Particles of dust one sees journeying inside Morning sunlight streaming Into a dark room.

  Also Greek for syntax:
           to combine, to arrange.

Astynax: Opposite of syntax, As spelt by me?

  No. Young son of 
  Hector and Andromache
           Killed by the conquering
           Greeks.

For Monica Mody, whose assegai (a Berber spear) made me dust the dictionary.




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An After-Wedding Poem



…two poplar trees to shiver outside her window, a noise she can sleep against, sleeping trees and sleeping roofs that she grew up with in the east end of Toronto… ~ Michael Ondaatje in “The English Patient”

Under maples, in that season When they lay their golden hands over Anyone who passes underneath,

You two stand, holding hands As if you were just about to waltz Into an upward spiral of time.

I wasn’t present, and yet after These many days when I see Your faces, beatific & beautiful,

The ruby red, the white lilies, Light falling on upturned faces, Something comes loose within:

I bend over to kiss again This ever-miraculous earth!

For H.K & J.K




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A Drinking Song



(For Kuppa, for those ‘quarters’ of McDowell’s Whiskey)

What is this city Called drunkenness, my friend? People tell me that I Live there now.

So if this city Does exist, it is quite strange Because all I find in it are A quite room, with a table,

A reasonably full bottle and A glass from which I am Sipping something close To forgetting.

But I then keep forgetting That to forget requires One to first remember Everything. And this

Takes forever. Time Never passes. Only I pass Through a stupor of bottles, And burn in their heat

Into something less than A shadow, falling down Those long disused roads, Where time was leaving

As it was arriving. So why Is it that I only hear you and Me laughing at something I am Supposed to forget, and did forget?




My Poems

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