November 24, 2009

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ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

I knew when i saw you drive up, you were relieved to be here, waiting for me to take you through the turnstiles into The Wonderland Amusement Park of the mind, sans Coney Island and Ferlinghetti, William Blake in a corner somewhere breathing madness into words, Allen Ginsberg in between hallucinations, stilled dressed in the three piece suit he wore for his birthday party a few years ago when yesterday hadn't come, and I heard Michael McClure for the first time accompanied on the piano by the Door's Ray Manzareck, my mind buzzing, mesmerized, storing up poems for days like this when your voice calls me up from a congested highway in Manila, Marcos long gone, the seeds for building a theme park of the mind, still germinating; the softness of your words bursting from my breasts like doves set free after a high school graduation in the mountain city where I used to live, residing in the bowels of madness, my inner synapses on the verge of an overload that will haunt me for the rest of my life. That honk. That smile. The look in your eyes, waiting for me to sit beside you in the love boat we installed two months ago, for lovers and those who dream when the sun passes you by.

leap

tall buildings, sperm!

winter cold

come dawn,

the sun runs through

the clouds

looking to breast feed

another woman's dream

barren man . . .

a mirage void

of heirs

superman

tore off his cape, then

reconsidered . . .

a flower petal caught

in a wisp of wind

if only

only, only, the

sun fed me

i am

nothing without you . . .

a lesson

taught me near the

autumn of last leaves

breeze, take me

across the river . . .

without dreams

tear me into

a thousand strips of

paper and

fold each into an

egret moored in prayer

through a

hollow chute, leaves

of song

jack fruit moon,

i hope you don't come

tomorrow . . .

wrap yourself instead in

clouds and stay my thoughts

it's hard for

me to wait for dusk . . .

lilac kiss

tomorrow

let it be now, when

the rain's light . . .

and you, perfumed

in sensual madness

dance, trees;

bring my love back . . .

full of seed

i 'll hoe

tonight the furrows

we planted

before dawn, under

a jack fruit moon

and dusk . . .

bring me flowers

before dawn

will the rain

be mine, karma a

field sod with

new memories

nesting in hell?

know me, dusk . . .

bury my dreams in

latent loam

taste with me

a future, sculpted with

smooth hands . . .

an old man's breath

dangling from trees

will madness

soothe me with lilac

scented grass?

brother rain,

flood the las pinas

area with

a storm no one

can leave or enter!

come, ulan . . .

wash away my sins

with stained glass

* ulan= tagalog for rain

unanswered,

water without a

place to go . . .

the lingering scent

of running waste

the texts

without "i love you . . ."

falling leaves

waiting for

the call that comes

too late . . .

i stare into

the looking glass

look at me!

am i a leaf that

crackles?

robert d. wilson

©2009

UNTIL NEXT TIME . . .