The Second Part
Donostia San Sebastián
6th May 2019
I - Donostia
Poetry
248 works
The First Part
Naples
2nd May 2019
I - Parthenope
The Walk
Orisson
Antiphon 1 - St Michael on the Pyrenees
This is the Door of the Jubilee of Forgiveness:
Disturbing Peace (Based on the film, “Closet Land”)
For her, when the closet dreams again began their terror was that of stillness,
& that stillness the kind of cemeteries. Away, she could rationalize this, say
that the grave coats were only cloth, the narrowing light, only a viewpoint,
Information Society
Fear. Numbers. Money----
All bottom line criteria detailing this century
resulting from ignorance & an enlightenment
Shell Seekers
Also must search the embankments,
the shores for your crypt, all those emblems -
beloved, beloved - our fingertips leave...
Divingdinless
On ledges of vertigo falcons,
I left behind some crumbs for flying
critters
Waking the Body
Might sodium pentothal work or perhaps amnesia,
a clean slate, no shame, no idea -
(is there?) - of lacking...
Deep Water
Ages sleep, rock-mysterious: the fossils of lava flooding senses fathom
by the lights of fish blind themselves in their own darting schools,
pearlescent as targets only carbon's neon strobes
The Koi
Koi are not fish, he says.
They’re the backyard’s jewelry collection.
But they are fish, he adds.
The Waitress
It’s obvious that
our waitress is distracted.
Tears in her eyes
A Lover of The Symphony
I sit myself in a place where the crowd is mere mirage.
There is nothing in this concert hall but the music
and myself. The violinists try their best to pass as people,
Lena Confesses
I never had time for the strangers
with their barstool philosophies
and their breath like last week’s regrets.
Meeting Peter at the Tate
First a visit to
the Giacometti exhibit.
Haven’t been in London for years
For Love of The Word “Love”
Poets grabbed the word “love.”
And they kept it for themselves.
Does that surprise you?
There are days
There are days when the street is the most spiritless place on earth.
You leave the house and, though people don't let you pass, though
you have to eke out your path on the sidewalk, for you
Texan Thunderstorm
I moan of the subtle pain,
hidden under my spine
arched like an arrow
Alive – or Otherwise
I open my eyes
Low and behold, to my surprise
I am alive still
Feral mundane
Dark alley
Where we met
Maimed by your simper
Teardrop’s ash
What can I say, and how
To make the words into shievers
Where would I learn, and if I did, how would you know