I had unraveled
under the spell of a garden
with stars overlooking its pool
she was bending over the water
a swan appeared
did the swan resemble the poppy
or was the poppy the swan
the question did not even occur to me
in that childish afternoon
when words retreated into silence
time
was kissing everything it passed.
translated by Suat Karantay
Month: October 2022
Weekend Bathers by Kenneth Patchen
Sun on their naked shoulders
Like a sparkling hand;
Marge and her big-legged sweetie
Laughing to beat the band—
O glory in the Garden!
He finds her halter straps
And such pretties are exposed;
Yet, Wonder—now what is that?
Perhaps the water knows.
Thunder rides with the gnat.
Ah, each day a weaker bridge is crossed,
And nearer rush the wings;
Too soon all youthful swagger’s lost
In the dark hurry of things.
in the darkness: for Jason
when the phone calls
stop
and you’re alone
in the darkness
what voices
do you hear
what faces
float by
in memory
to comfort
to haunt
then
even three fingers of whiskey
there were days
when the sun shone
brightly & true
before night fell
& they faded
into fragments
of faulty memory
of faces
you would rather forget
even three fingers
of whiskey
can’t erase
all the debris left
of your love
Since the Tiny Yellow Rose by Kenneth Patchen
Since the tiny yellow rose
In the vase beside the candles
And the single drop of water
Upon this leafs uppermost tip
—Proof of mystery? or just
Two meaningless occurrences from
A meaningless physical world?
And your lovely fingers lifting a cup,
Or smoothing a crease in the table cloth
—To me so beautiful that my heart cries
With joy and pride at their nearness
Leonard Durso 