Another Wedding Of Roses
"Wherever we turn in the storm of roses,
the night is lit up by thorns" ~ Ingeborg Bachmann
He is wearing a garland of roses And also a crown of memories.
No Romans at his back, and now The only cross he carries is composed
Of clocks' ticking hands. Tonight, There is a hungry feast he is supposed
To be at, but he appears to have lost The invitation. These footprints
In the snow - the shade of roses. Did Orpheus climb out of earth,
Alone with his defeat somewhere here? Dusklight through frost’s glaze rainbows,
And takes him to the cathedral that was Her throat in the middle of a song.
The wolf will rend this memory to pieces, And night will be lit by the thorns,
Wedded to his rose-hued palms.
December 2009, Washington DC
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Touching In Winter
I can't touch you.
The ribs of winter
Come into focus at
The striated window,
Against which I lean My forehead to be able To scribble your vanishing Name over and over.
Yes, it is over, and has Been over for years. Your white belly a ghost, Your red hair the fire
In the grate, and ice Hanging from the eaves Syllables that never became A sentence of persuasion.
So now I touch the scars, just under my eyes, in this city full of dead memorials, Where I can't touch you.
December 2009, Washington DC
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Radhika Whispers To The Sea
O Sea,
Turning colorless with the night,
Wearing coral at your neck,
Leaving so many frothy Kisses on the cooling black Sand, agitating the sails
Of boats pivoting to harbor, Whole lit cities witness to Your shameless love making,
Take this message to the far Shore for me: "Radhika wears Jasmine in her coiled hair and
around her white wrists, waiting for You, O Dark One, to shame this shameless sea, just for this night."
2009-11-06, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
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