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 . . .
