Write to Me
Write to me
of fountains
dotting the avenue
where slender figures
rise with waters gushing
Open the windows
near the river
where salted air
cruises the valley
on the island
Carry me
to soon-to-be home
with moistened limbs
softening the evening
making heaven
here
where we stand
real
here
on earth
Sift newer memories
of place and face
Reminders
that time
with tears
is shortened
Zeus to O. Henry: a year in the life of a librarian artist
Background:
I live in Stonington, Connecticut which is fewer than 30 miles from a collection of 227
casts from the late 19th century.
Within several months of visiting that gallery at the Slater Memorial Museum, I found
myself 17.8 kilometers from the Museum Gypsoteca Antonio Canova while studying the
book arts in Italy.
In October of the previous year, 2022, The Church with an Overshot Wheel, a restored
silent film based on the O. Henry film, featuring Aglaia (one of the three graces of
Antonio Canova’s sculpture of the same name) was screened at a film festival in Connecticut.
Question:
Where do cliffhangers (Fort Lee NJ) fit in?
Beginnings and endings
That’s what interests the reader
Middle not so much
O. Henry was known for
Surprise endings
Perhaps oh-prefaced endings
are more like it
The word oh signals a change of state
Which happens with surprise endings
Oh also reminds us of O. Henry
In one story
a preacher’s memory is restored
when the corporeal
becomes spiritual
A bag of milled corn is pierced
and spills from the second floor of a church
bathing the man in golden light
That’s light as knowledge
His lost child, Aglaia, exists
Aglaia, named after
one of the Three Graces
the very daughters of Zeus
is very much alive
as a fully grown woman
within arm’s length
Reunited, they are
by music
and faith
And please do not confuse surprise endings
with cliffhangers
Note
Taking its motif from ancient Greek literature, The Three Graces depicts the three
daughters of Zeus, each of whom is described as being able to bestow a particular gift
on humanity: Euphrosyne (mirth), Aglaia (elegance) and Thalia (youth and beauty).
Maple Syrup, Priest
He, in his waffle-essence
will invite you in his direction
give you his hand
climb the waffle walls
walking you to the center of warmth
the waffle center
showing you where to lie
Your eyes become viewfinders
Seeing outside the square, waffle walls
A perfect blue portrait of light and sky and peace
He suggests you relax and take comfort
on the egg-infused mattress,
your tired back carving its shape into the golden glow
that surrounds the room without a roof
It will be here soon, he says
and sure enough the syrup is poured
maple syrup on our heads and trunks, arms and legs
soaking the waffle, soaking our skin
spreading the waffle-essence
Heretic of Love
When the heretic of love
Knocks
He licks you tired
Unhinges your lungs
Pushes you off the bed
All fours
Locked
Dodging head butts
Loosening submission holds
Toes wrestling me to neutral
Eyes as magnets
Shocked
Tumbling centripetal force
Blocked
A circling, from room to room
Tick-tocked
Rest for optimization
Rocked
Musculature shredded
Hawked
Spring over the garden gate
Stalked
Back for lunch tomorrow
Hair Treatments for the Rich and Famous
I see you are wearing your daddy’s shirt
frayed collar, of course
the frayed relationship you wear
‘round your neck
a legacy complemented by the junior beside your name
As lady-killer, Dad left you wanting it, too
Just the right move would turn your pounce upon the
next 10021 zip-coded single, 40-ish, former debutante
(who shares Demi’s secret hair solution)
into a night of dubious love-making or fucking,
depending on your zip code, of course
See the shirt boxed later that week
stacked with its brothers
or see the skirt hanging in the debutante’s wardrobe
the next day
limp as the evening it witnessed
C’est tu
A fairy princess painted
the word hope on your pillow
A talisman for my
portrait of you
Your eyes became seeing eyes
hazel and strong
Telling all that there
will be love
Exigent…yet calmed
by the calla lilies and bird song
I use your mythologies
to paint your hands
Sable brushes make them soft
for all to see
I unlock their passions using blue
for the rivers
and gold for their tips
Here are the slippers for your feet
They tell the universe you are mine for all time
Belled Heart
Let’s ring the bells
I failed to hear in my dreams
and snatch gato’s bell dangling
between the park and the Upper East
Quiet my once-belled heart estranged
by seasons and murmurous fumblings
Reset it with Illuminated gestures
chiseled recitations
tendrilous sentiments chirping with sound and movement
I yearn for maturity and touch,
eccrine charms worn silently,
seen only by you
Antidote to the Love Affair, with Thanks to Sophie Calle
Antidote to love affair….suspend hope in it
Antidote to malaise….Italian footwear
Antidote to ennui….anything nuanced
Antidote to mendacity…carpe diem
Antidote to loneliness....milk chocolate
Antidote to boredom….dark chocolate
Antidote to kitsch….white chocolate
Antidote to white noise.....white space
Antidote to cyberspace…it’s in your glove compartment
Antidote to heavy eyelids…eliminate alcohol
Antidote to celebrity….light a candle
Antidote to mass consumerism….perfection
Antidote to poor conceptual art….revisit Man Ray
Antidote to despair….employ hope
Antidote to happy endings….revisit antidote to love affair