Tuesday, October 19, 2004

To a Verbose Suitor

You can't abstract me, sir, no;
this leg and this hip make
a perfect - (almost) - right, but then twist
and curve to other shape, un-
traceable and mocking words or any
thing not solid, ground, now.

You can't describe me, sir;
Not to draw me closer with a
less-than-spider web, not to placate
my eyes which might window soul
but are still round, heavy, wet, salt.

I change, I flow, in the time between
your thought
and your word
and in the time
inside that.
The pattern only patterns
from afar
and you want
to step closer....no?

So close the pages of your book
(good only to press a flat flower)
and take that nearer step -
Sink foot into soft earth for print
which will deepen,
and in whose
sweet crevices
shoots of green
may grow
and fall.


Blogger John Holt said...


You are magic. Reading Neruda the other night while *yawn* cocktail conversation buzzed around us was a great moment. As was your doing a half handstand on my back in Dumbarton Oaks. Ditto reading this poem.


3:02 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Help me Dude, I'm lost.

I was searching for Elvis and somehow ended up in your blog, but you know I'm sure I saw Elvis in the supermarket yesterday.

No honest really, he was right there in front of me, next to the steaks singing "Love me Tender".

He said to me (his lip was only slightly curled) "Boy, you need to get yourself a shiny, new plasmatv to go with that blue suede sofa of yours.

But Elvis said I, In the Ghetto nobody has a plasma tv .

Dude I'm All Shook Up said Elvis. I think I'll have me another cheeseburger then I'm gonna go home and ask Michael Jackson to come round and watch that waaaay cool surfing scene in Apocalypse Now on my new plasma tv .

And then he just walked out of the supermarket singing. . .

"You give me love and consolation,
You give me strength to carry on "

Strange day or what? :-)

8:37 PM  

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