watching you
cross your legs
always caused a shudder
up my back,
shortness
in my breath
and a longing
in my fingertips
longing
on listening to Frank
who I wonder
did he sing to
not in night clubs
in Vegas
or in film
but in those lonely hours
with the bottle dry
or in the studio booth
pouring that heart
onto vinyl
for those of us
with empty bottles
at 2am
Ahhh, Angela
Ahhh, Angela
angel of the evening
wrap me
in your velvet arms
lay my head
upon your tender breasts
let me sleep
like the baby
I never was
this longing
the day ends
but not so
this longing
in my heart
oh to be there
her hand held high
the proverbial V sign
the dress discreetly
just above the knee
the shoulder bare
her face tan
from days out hatless
under the sun
and that smile
lighting up the hills
surrounding her
and my heart
yearns hopelessly
oh to be there
beside her
oh how different
it’s easy to identify
with the longing
of those ancient Chinese friends
of mine
but oh how different
to feel at home
here in self-imposed exile
among people more alike
than different
from those from whom
I came
For Ku Yen-hsien, A Poem for Him to Give to His Wife by Lu Yün
I on the sunny side of Three Rivers,
you in the gloom south of Five Lakes,
mountains and seas vast between us,
farther apart than bird and fish–
my eyes envision your lovely form,
my ears still ring with your soft sweet voice.
I lie down alone, full of far-off thoughts;
waking, I stroke the collar of my empty robe.
Beautiful one, sharer of my longing,
who but you will ever hold my heart?
translated by Burton Watson
from a line by Shen Yüeh in his Six Poems on Remembering
the anticipation
of you
stirs such longing
that only your touch
can soothe the sorrow
hovering
and the kindness
in your eyes
heals the ache
throbbing
there with you
always
till the hunger is forgotten
and peace settles
in my heart
just like Su T’ung-p’o: there goes my heart
send a letter
five thousand miles
through space
and with it
there goes my heart
from The Nineteen Old Poems of the Han by Liu Pang: from No. 17
A traveler from afar has come
and brought a missive meant for me:
“I’ll forever think of you,” it opened
and ended “long though we be parted.”
I’ve kept that letter in my sleeve
three years, the words unfading.
That my heart, alone, should cling to such a little thing. . .
My only fear, that you don’t know.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Leonard Durso 