these emails
that are voices
from the past
refresh both joy
and sorrow
oh friends oh lovers
long buried here
in my memory
your words
echo long
within the chambers
of what is left
of my heart
memory
following a line from Su Tung-p’o
oh heart
that holds memory
so dear
release me
what almost was
there were those nights
we sat in your alcove
drinking wine drinking tea
eating watermelon apple slices
nibbling on Italian cookies cake
after a late show
at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema
talking of books
we were reading
of the upcoming season
at Carnegie Hall
of an aria
sung by Renée Fleming
there was the food
you packed for me
to take home
and that sadness lingering
as I left
of what almost was
and never would be
again
that lump in the throat
there were Christmases
birthdays
a gift here
a gift there
words exchanged
and some unspoken
pictures in an album
letters never sent
a shot of whiskey
here here
now
that lump
in the throat
called regret
with a nod to Shen Yüeh: remembering
remembering
the way your gown fell
to the floor
as you almost shyly
stepped away
leaving it forlornly
abandoned
like my heart
this night
one last poem from Six Poems on Remembering by Shen Yüeh
I think of when she sleeps–
struggling to stay awake when others have retired,
undoing her sheer gown without waiting to be urged,
resting on the pillow till caresses find her.
Fearful that the one by her side is watching,
she blushes under the candle’s glow.
translated by Burton Watson
Here’s another, Lynn: Six Poems on Remembering: 2 by Shen Yüeh
I think of when she sits–
prim, prim before the gauze curtain,
sometimes singing four or five songs,
sometimes plucking two or three strings.
When she laughs, there’s no one like her;
when she sulks, she’s more lovely than before.
translated by Burton Watson
for Lynn at adminclouds because she asked: Six Poems on Remembering: Poem 1 by Shen Yüeh
I think of when she comes–
shining, shining, up the garden stairs,
impatient, impatient to end our parting.
Tireless, tireless, we talk of love,
gaze at each other but never get our fill,
look at one another till hunger is forgotten.
translated by Burton Watson
just one more thing
bourbon kisses
she said that night
in her doorway
just one more thing
to miss
about you
and a heart
already broken
cracked once more
you in summer
you
in summer
somewhere
in the past
your hair
slightly lifted
by a breeze
your eyes
staring pensively
into the future
my eyes
lost looking
into your heart
Leonard Durso 