I’m awakened by the sound of laughter drifting through the window of my small flat above the Café. From there I can see the cobblestone streets beginning to fill with partiers, snow piling at the curbside. My clock reads ten PM. Sinking slowly into a warm bath, my wet hair has the scent of lavender and smoke, my skin the smell of yesterday’s perfume mingled with the haunting presence of strong cologne and the sweet scent of sweat and rope. At the mirror I brush my hair and pull it back with a silver plated comb, slip into smoky seamed stockings and my clingy black frock. Making my way past the crowded bar I find my usual booth in the dark fringe of a deserted corner, order a glass of red wine and wait.
My dreams fade then return
where you are a denizen who
speaks in tongues I’ve yet
Our dreams had weight yet
left no impression in the
the snow still our words turned
ice to smoke.
The memory of you vibrates
my hemispheres haunts my
nights where light and shadow
Now I’m held fast
forever revisiting the dream.
Why did you have to be so beautiful?
A little night music
Seeking pleasure in the darkness your fingers outline the etching of a hummingbird sipping from a carafe. There is balance in paradise. Indescribable beauty in the disarray of green parrot feathers. The moon pulls out the last breath of yesterday as your hands close around mine and I guide them where callous meets softness. Desire is a rage as wild as a shock of bursting hibiscus buds. The outline of Palm fronds divide like the chambers of a heart, the sound of waves break in our bones. Our throats are grazed by the winds teeth, our eyes are the color of Bird of Paradise.
Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning, two bodies ruined by a single sweetness” Pablo Neruda
Between wake and sleep
I feel the brush of your hand
cold as winters breath,
glimpse you in lightning strokes.
Listen to foot steps come and go
along corridors of departure.
Mists of yesterdays recede over
rivers of time.
So that you may see what is left
I’ve etched your eyes to mine.
Dismembered by scythes, conscious
fingers of stars glide over hoarfrost fields
or weeping willows sweep ice capped ponds
where my heart became a dying bird.
The small lake shimmers with light
reeds rustle beneath
the feet of a fawn
leaning forward her pink tongue
spattering the sweetness of life
into her nose and eyes
spotted ears pull sideways
heeding the sigh of the forest
the breath of a breeze
the kiss of sunlight transforms
autumn gold to green
beyond the edge of the wood
fall collides with spring
in tender places of the wild
Do No Harm
The Gods have
filled my chest with
starlings and a confection
of summer blossoms
I’ve fallen from my bough
into unplumbed depths
of swirling waters
my eyes have lost their
Gleam and sleep
has forsaken me
my tongue rendered
speechless as everything
that ever died with eyes
let me dream
let me sing
Mae Moon “starlings”
Your winter coat lies on the bed of a decaying forest
the silence is as hard as pounding hooves or soft as the moon rising
in your kingdom of stars.
Gurkski’s ” Il me faut t’abandonne”
“Come dusk is when my mind walks out
from where I fence myself in,
my dark room of nightly delights where
I encounter her, my queen of all things blue
and we fight right from the start
To make me love her even more.
I place the hands of my heart to gather
my hunting spirit, follow her footprints
into our forests of love and war.”
Von Liebe und Krieg — Of love and war
Translation to German by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi
NICHT BEREIT DAFÜR REISE ICH,
UM ZU ÜBERLEBEN,
DURCH ERINNERUNGEN, DIE SICH EINFINDEN,
DA LIEGT DEIN WINTERMANTEL,
WO EINST UNSERE RÜCKEN WAREN,
HALB BEGRABEN IM FALLENDEN SCHNEE,
JETZT VERROTTEN SIE ZWISCHEN ZAPFEN UND NADELN.
DER WALDBODEN RIECHT NACH BRENNENDER KIEFER
UND STILLE IST WIE DER KLANG STAMPFENDER
HUFE ODER SANFT WIE DER ZUNEHMENDE MOND
IN DEINEM REICH DER STERNE.
AUSZUG AUS GURKSKIS „IL ME FAUT T’ABANDONNE“
„KOMM, DÄMMERUNG IST, WENN MEINE GEDANKEN FORTWANDERN,
VON DA, WO ICH MICH EINZÄUNE,
MEIN DUNKLER RAUM NÄCHTLICHER FREUDEN, WO
ICH IHR BEGEGNE, MEINER KÖNIGIN ALLER BLAUEN DINGE,
UND WIR KÄMPFEN VON ANBEGINN,
DASS ICH SIE NOCH MEHR LIEBE.
ICH NEHME DIE HÄNDE MEINES HERZENS
EINZUFANGEN MEIN JAGENDES WESEN, FOLGE IHREN SPUREN
IN UNSERE WÄLDER AUS LIEBE UND KRIEG.“
The room is stifling with
The sad cafe tends to its ghosts
but we are more than grateful to forget.
There are no secrets among these
desolate lovers disfigured by life.
We inhale circlets of smoke
that linger in the air and taste lips
The night arches its back
to drunken angels so we dance
beneath stars that meet us halfway.
“Knowing” by Andrew Atroshenko
is A child that looks out
from eyes that weep diamonds
or liquid fire spills from the curve of her lip
burns trails down her cheeks
those voices inside roll on waves
of ocean-like silence from the pit of her belly
(is that possible?)
cold clouds rain down from some god-forsaken
depth that like the tender touch of heartbreak
pleads come and rest.
Photographer unknown, public domain
Drawn by the pull of possibility
I am at war with resistance
tempted by persuasion and the
dynamic momentum of hands
on taut shoulders
the gravitational press on tangled
knots and willowy limbs that succumb to
a black spell night
your kiss is kindle igniting
the perfect fire
Come dawn I am a periwinkle
at your pillow
tender petals bending to what
art by Andre Belinchenko