Monday, November 23, 2009

For G.



A tree decides not to hate the ground.

"She could not have received you, my straying leaves,

Had you not let go of me first;

Not once,

But a thousand times.


You spread yourself over her as if she were precious,

But I think

She was just close by

And besides,

You had already fallen as far as you could go.


What good does it do me

To be so constant?

My arms are full of emptiness

All the same."


A tree decides not to hate the ground.

After all,

Spring, and fullness, will come again in time--

Still, each ring

Leaves her older

Though stronger,

And at night, in Winter,

She dreams of bending without a care,

Green again in a sweet breeze

Of June and the way things were.

_______

Sunday, November 22, 2009

The Lorelei



"Everybody's somebody's fool" --Connie Francis


The Lorelei is brought into Maritime Court, charged with luring sailors to their deaths with the beauty of her voice.

A jury of her peers is empaneled, but disqualified when The Lorelei testifies in her own defense,

And nine of the jurors throw themselves over the rail to sit at her feet

Where she pets them like so many Pomeranians.


An all-female jury replaces the first one, but still, five of them pass The Lorelei impassioned notes,

Suggesting meetings after they have seen to her acquittal.


"Objection!" thunders the prosecuting attorney. "The defendant is to blame for dozens of shipwrecks and the loss of life and property!"

"Oh sure, blame the woman," mutters The Lorelei, rolling her eyes.


In the end, she cannot be convicted.

Even a bench trial fails when, upon hearing The Lorelei promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and so on, the judge drops his gavel and proposes to her on the spot.

She refuses him.


The Lorelei becomes a media darling.

On E! she is asked why she isn't blonde, as traditionally depicted in art and illustration,

And her silent scorn is potent enough to send the interviewer, a former soap opera hunk, away in tears.


The Lorelei decides to grab lunch at Danny's Coffee Shop.

She sits at the counter and tries to chat up the chick next to her, just because she can;

But she is ignored, which has never happened before, and The Lorelei gets flustered and drops her keys.


Chloe, born on a sunny Sunday in May, says,

"God what a ditz. Pick those up."

Chloe is the heart-breaking murderess of Danny's Coffee Shop, and has never felt sorry for a single thing she's done.

Look at her eyes--they are

Untroubled,

Beautiful,

Disturbing,

Feline.

For the rest of the afternoon, The Lorelei sits at Chloe's feet like a Pomeranian.

Despite the ruin it will bring, she cannot help herself.


From The Lorelei's glass of water,

A thousand sailors laugh

And sing songs honoring Chloe,

Their unexpected Queen

Of ironic revenge.

____________
Those unfamiliar with Chloe can find her here.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Moon Rabbit



In a dream I saw a face

Which was half the moon and

Half a woman's face.


I said, "You are so beautiful."

She said, "I am dying."


In a lake, at night, in summer,

We swam naked;

I offered myself just below the surface,

She did the same for me from just above.


I relaxed and let my body float up--

She let herself float down;

And when we met,

We called that making love.


Now, I am as still as the stars in the moment of a kiss--

I am not all I wanted to be,

But I am more than I was before that night.


"Darling," I whispered, "I don't want you to leave."

She wrapped herself around me and said, "I already have..."

So I gave her a garland of poems and a touch of fingertips,

And sweetly lied that I would be all right.

______________
Thanks to Cloudia, who introduced me to the story of Chang-O and the Moon Rabbit. I have taken certain liberties with it here.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Two Questions, One Answer



"What is it like?" she asked me.

It is like

Carrying clouds around in my pockets;

When I want music,

I take them out and shake out the birds.


So the birds asked me,

"What is it like, loving her the way you do?"

It is like

Carrying clouds around in my pockets;

All day, the winds blow west to east,

Moving through me, shaking out poems like these.

______

Monday, November 16, 2009

Rasputin



A wandering holy man named Grigori Rasputin walks into Danny's Coffee Shop.

He is not mad.

He is not a monk.

He orders tea.


His hair and beard are greasy and he smells like a barn.

He wraps his huge hands around the cup as women do--

It is like seeing a polar bear do cross stitch...

Absurd, incongruous, and somehow pleasing.


A panther, who is really the Queen Of The Vampires, insinuates herself onto his lap.

The huge hands caress her ears and a contented rumbling begins.


"I was debauched," he says softly, into her fur.

"I drank prodigious amounts. I slept my way through Saint Petersburg. All those bored wives with their salons and samovars!"


The panther is falling asleep in his lap, completely blissed out.

"But yet, my pretty one, this does not mean that I was not touched by God, and possessed of the true gift of healing."


At the mention of the Supreme Being, the panther does manage to half open one eye,

But she has gotten used to all of the waitresses here.


"When the Little Mother, Alexandra, implored me to save her son, the heir, I did so."


"Did you know, kitty, that I knew Maxim Gorky? As boys, we sat beneath the apple trees in summer;

I would laze about, good for nothing, and call out lewd suggestions to the local girls.

Maxim would listen to the starlings going mad in the branches at sunset, and he would write down all that they said. These jottings became his poems!


"In later years,

Lost in a cloud of startling white hair and whiskers,

He would sit on a bench and feed the great grandchildren of those same starlings, with loaves he would buy from old women.


"People would see him and say, 'There is Gorky! He is even this moment creating beautiful verse in his head!'


"But he wasn't. He couldn't.

His head was as empty as a sleigh in July,

And he was only there for the starlings,

To thank them."


A waitress named Denise brings Rasputin more tea.


He continues.

"I was the Little Mother's spiritual advisor and the protector of her son.

The Grand Duchesses I loved like my own children, with never an evil thought.


"My enemies made up lies about me, you know.

I have always been able to please women, whether by vulgar or holy means;

For this, they shot me, poisoned me, bound me and threw me into the freezing Neva river in the middle of winter!


"It had nothing to do with politics! That's all pigsh--"

He had been going to say 'pigshit', but when the waitress walks by, he softens his voice and says to the cat,

"It was nonsense."


As it grows dark outside, Rasputin grows melancholy.

"Look at me, kitty. I'm dead. I can't get a woman anymore, and without that..."

His voice trails off.


The Queen Of The Vampires, who can shape-shift,

Has been on a being-a-black-panther kick for three weeks,

But now she stretches, yawns, and becomes her natural self again.


Dark.

Beautiful.

Eternal.


"Come on, sailor," she says. "Let's get out of here."

She gives Rasputin a wink and lets her sharp canines show for just the briefest of moments.


Rasputin feels as if he has been healed.

He feels as if he has finally stopped bleeding,

The lucky recipient of supernatural intercession.


"Look!" says an excited patron, someone from out of town. "It's Grigori Rasputin! He is probably plotting his Machiavellian schemes right here in Danny's Coffee Shop!"

But the truth is,

He is thinking of nothing except the joy of walking out into the evening with the Queen Of The Vampires.

He is there only for her pleasure,

To thank her.

___________

Sunday, November 15, 2009

La Bruja



Two sisters live in this house I know.

It's not a gingerbread house,

It's not a witches' house,

But it has a curvy front walk

And a cat behind the screen door.


One sister

Is quirky and friendly.

She wears

Leopard print ear muffs in the winter time.

The other sister

Is seldom seen

And won't pass the time of day,

Won't even

Look your way.


What's up with that?

I'd love to know what's up with that.


When she moves, she's so at home in her own body,

She makes it seem like all the rest of creation

Is just a guest in her universe,

And when she turns

The leaves burn

Just because she stands near them.


What's up with that?

I'd love to know what's up with that.


The friendly sister

Always has a good word,

And a smile like honey;

But the other sister

Makes me feel like a blackbird

Shot from the sky

And falling, falling...


What's up with that?

I'd love to know what's up with that.


I think the gypsies

Kicked the dark sister out

Because

Everywhere she stays

It rains the ace of spades

And she was too intense

Even for outsiders like them.

And so I

Ponder her again--

The mother of the moon

In the form of a cat.


What's up with that?

I'd love to know what's up with that.

__________
Photo: Cat Power

Friday, November 13, 2009

Ghosts



Ghosts love roses--

I know this

Because every time I wear silver jewelry,

I catch their fragrance

And they tell me

Senora,

Mira,

The constellations gather

At your throat and fingertips.


Ghosts are fine dancers--

I know this

Because late at night after even dreams have gone,

The rain touches the curtains at my window

Lightly,

As a lover should;

Finally, when I am as empty as a wine glass,

They give me music

And forgetfulness made of glass and wood.


So, give me my silver jewelry

And toss me down a fragrant rose--

Though I will not stir, I will be dancing

With the ghosts who whisper,

Senora,

Are you ready, now, to go?

____________