Sunday, February 25, 2007

Phantasm


Phantasm


I walked across a field last night
And though you were not there…
The scented, memory-laden
Mists of you were in the air.

And these were scattered by a breeze
Whose message was the same…
For distantly were whisp’ring
Aspen leaves that knew your name.

And even when the gathering winds
Surrounded like a fire…
The gusty tongues could only carry
Thoughts of you still higher.

Where up above, and far apart
Two lonely stars were gleaming…
They followed me across the field
Last night as I lay dreaming.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

Friday, February 23, 2007

Iceberg


Iceberg


Sinking, I say it.
I love the five-sixths under water
As much as that above.
Her nose on mine, she shudders
No, it’s not there. She sees no smile
But feels it, loving
That I won’t drink of her whispered lie.
Her tongue is proof on my lips.

There is no land here, no footing.
No world.
Just her kiss, a punch through iron
And a wound one wishes for.
This ship is going down.
Hold on. Hold to the iceberg
White, and warm.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Hallowed


Hallowed


In an instant every place
You were is hallowed.
The signboard and its menu.
The window you peered into,
Rejecting the d├ęcor.
The chair you draped your black
Scarf over. Hallowed.

You turned your face aside
Laughing, when I misjudged
The power of wasabi.
We waltzed to no music
And later, in an instant, the paper
Cups we tossed became holy.

A taxi took you.
And I walked those damp,
Fresh, haunted streets.
The grey bookstore-cat
Looked up at me,
Wondering

How can I be here?
And you,
Not.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Superior


Superior

The regular get-together rolls around.
Michigan, Huron, Erie, Ontario.
The Big Guy is invited, but he never shows.

Too busy… too many boats on his back, says Erie.
Too deep, murky, heavy for his own good, says another.
(Nodding all around, considerable turbulence.)
Unfriendly is what! Strutting his own endless shoreline
like he’s the King of Freshwater.


Then Michigan, silent until now, clears his long narrow throat:
Calm down lads. He is the King, but remember…
He’s only above us if we’re looking at a map!


Have you ever heard four lakes laugh?
I mean all at once?
It shook birds out of their trees in Buffalo,
And sent several quick waves to smack that Pier
jutting out into the Chicago harbor.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

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