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Part I Pretty winter Shall I see you again? -tonight, In the middle of winter, When shadows die by the lampposts, We'll ride to a place, Where moon phials streak across the mended mirrors, And dust collects on the velvet tables - A phantom of the snow outside. I conjure the images, you dance the blues, And here we are, blue statues of quicksilver - For falling, breathing rose petals on the windows: They ice themselves and cover Our sleep, and conscience, and night - away. We know the touch expires and the perfume fades With time into the rushing headlights of the streets, And I will keep forgetting how to hold my head For inspiration. We stay together in a place, an apparition of our dreams, Statues of shadow to die in the morning, Dissolve together, and dance to the blues, On the parquet, burning, from so many feet. Part II - Christmas Garland The day I accepted I loved You - As in bold, italic, formal - Sir, Mere yawn thrown on the scattered poems, An arrow whistling in the dreamy streets - So cold, so lost, Gold and blue, and sky in feathers, And far away, on the very borders Of the fingerprint universe I painted for both of us, A whisper. It stretched across the whole of humanity, It tickled in your ear And brushed against your frozen cheeks, And plunged together with the snow, Where it would agonize and melt - Drops of moon on the pavement. My love is but a blasphemy, Reach out and fall, Winter's oaths keep breaking, And I'm burnt out - An old Christmas garland On its last Christmas tree. Part III - Meeting Again I let the wind draw ice sculptures from my breath, And play with them, and break them, Leaving but dunes of ashes and white sleeves To billow in the shadows. I let you draw me close to you -again - You took my hand in yours and showed me How to glide, so smoothly, through the floor, Like underwater gymnast. I let you watch me cry -though you don't know this - With closed eyelids, tantalizing hints. I let you braid my lashes to the night and marry The break of cosmos, slipping in between my lips. |
I think your anthology is very well written and each poem flows into the next and this makes the whole thing hang together perfectly. A superb scrapbook you have here...keep adding to it. Frank. | Posted on 2006-02-04 00:00:00 | by Frank Maguire | [ Reply to This ] | |