she tells her own fortune
in a coffee cup
looking for something new
in the grinds
she wants the world
to reflect her vision
but it sadly disappoints
I talk too much
she says in conversation
ideas beliefs tumbling out
she would remake
the entire universe
if she could
and can’t quite understand
why this is not possible
it breaks her heart
to think it is so
and though there is no consolation
for one so sensitive
there is always hope
the world will live up
one future day
to her dreams
hope
Monday night in Izmir
there is no Irish whiskey
in the mini-bar
but I didn’t really expect there
to be
just two of those little bottles
of Chivas
which are topping off
the bottle of wine
at dinner
as I sit huddled in my coat
here on the balcony
of the hotel room
watching the water
for any ships out at sea
there was Tony Bennett singing
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
at the restaurant
followed by Andy Williams singing
Charade
“Fate seemed to pull the strings
I turned and you were gone”
and then some female singers
I couldn’t place
singing in Italian
it’s enough to confirm
my thinking
that Izmir just might be home
at least here in Turkey
and maybe
just maybe
there’s someone on
one of those ships
landing just for me
now wouldn’t that be
a kick in the head
what hope is
it’s like walking underwater
one is tired
even before one begins
but there is this image
just out of reach
that sustains me
and though for every two
I lose one
I keep moving
like a lens
that keeps focusing
I am drawn forward
your face before me
the light in your eyes
a promise unspoken
hope realized
a year from now: for friends of mine
often in life
we have those moments
when we wish
we were a year from now
to be through whatever
it is that’s driving us
instead of us driving it
our need to be the subject
not the object
of our lives
if only
you think
I could be a year from now
slip through time
bypass the morass we’re in
be beyond the confusion
the pain the sorrow
be somewhere else
another mindset
different circumstances
if only
if only
I could
but one can’t
that’s the sad truth of it
we just have to trek on
through whatever badlands
we find ourselves in
heading for open sky
and the promise of hope
in happiness
waiting for us
just over the horizon
Evening Clouds by Olav H. Hauge
Clouds are arriving now
With greetings from
Distant coasts;
It’s been a while since
They sent a message to me.
You shy pink
High on the evening sky–
It’s probably for
Someone else.
Well, there’s still
Some hope left
In the world.
translated by Robert Bly
Dreams by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Six O’Clock by Nazim Hikmet
Morning, six o’clock.
I opened the door of the day and stepped in–
a taste of young blue greeted me in the window,
the lines on my forehead remained in the mirror from yesterday,
and behind me a woman’s voice came softer than peach fuzz
and, on the radio, news from my country,
and now, my greed filling and overflowing,
I’ll run from tree to tree in the orchard of the hours,
and the sun will set, my love,
and I hope that beyond the night
the taste of a new blue will await me, I hope.
translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk
untitled poem3 by E.E. Cummings
who knows if the moon’s
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky–filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where
always’s
it’s
Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves
Untitled Tanka by Fujiwara No Shunzei
Very well–
but at least let me
hope for favor
in some life to come,
I who now suffer beyond enduring.
Leonard Durso 