Jeannie dreamt of cherry blossom times —- Douglas Gilbert
when falling cherished petals
rode on her shoulders like
dandruff thoughts
of springs past
jumping with him on bikes
pedaling home
to the sitting room
to shared cherries and
dreams of travel assumed
with sitars on their knees
playing hozannas from the West
like gospel cries
by the Alabama mist they’d seen
kissing faux banjos
Archive for July, 2007
Reading Alabama
Riding
I imagine you drifting Hear me honk On your way, squealing Wake up. Don’t Arrive soon, because
in thoughts on the bus
by the window with
a mystery package
see me as the bird
that flaps a clap
applauding your reverie
with the wheeling of the bus
I am the squeaky brakes
squawking to see you; I am
the roar of the engine
miss your stop
don’t drop your
precious package
I can’t wait to
open you up
to ride with me
—- Douglas Gilbert
Reading In The Circle Square
Oh please let me read Crowds gather to So I say in my false bass “Carp not the day, but friends, toilmen, bumpkins See me praise the dance Cheer me The Vandals and the Visigoths But I see her of sultry look I turn to her and read: If I dress to seek you You haunt me with I am out to find you I fold down my sign She says,
before the acrobats arrive
to drive me batty
claim my turf
near the museum
or in Central Park
see the somersaults
and the gray makeup statue people –
a statue that moves; what
is the thrill?
to carry my voice for three blocks
echoing off buildings:
kiss the past good-bye,
consume the meats of glory
while salad days are over,
green envy of youth begins,
and I say unto you:
lend me your eyes to spy;
I have come to bury Caesar salad
not to praise tyrants as Caesar
fishy and salty like an anchovy
on the graves of the grave,
and praise the praise
brought to ceremonials
and I shall be cheered,
for no one can tell me
what the sound is
of one tear clapping
in a thunder kiss
applauding the future”
the hoodlums of heckler youth shout,
“Shut up Shakespeare creep”
(I translate from the key of F)
turning to pull me into her
like a force field
to tear me from this
mob of barbarians
into her poetic world of fantasy, and
yes, I’d be her Romeo
“I woke up to my
longing for you; coffee
bit my dream
I stirred your cream
will I know where
passion gallivants
your many haunts. I
feel a phantom kiss
and miss the bliss from
flesh and ardor, belief bones
troubles massaged in a love whisper,
soothing music
melodic compassion
driven like the mating birds;
walking, I hear the coos
but let them fly unknowing
for I have a gift for us:
wait ’til you
see me smile
everywhere I know you”
pack up
walk to her
wanting to ravish
what do you really do
—- Douglas Gilbert
The Employment of Nations
The usurpers’ convention The Ukrainians of Russian descent Kirkuk shall be Basque neither The Basque will bask and the Swiss Implementation They are all waiting News flash Translators
wrangled out a vote
will fly to Iraq, the Sunnis
to Basque territory
neither Arab nor
Kurdish
but Russian
French nor Spanish
but Sunni
in the Swiss Alps
will seize Hershey Pennsylvania
to make chocolate cuckoo clocks
could take a while
to gather the Sioux
mercenaries
for Divine inspiration
at the top of the
Tower of Babel West
at any moment
needed immediately.
Apply now!
—- Douglas Gilbert
Harangue
Wild dancer, —- Douglas Gilbert
the merengue
butt of a joke, she
shakes her fertile
crescent idea
her hope moon
rising in cloudy wisps,
a meringue froth that
whisks away the doubts, for
she hears no harangue,
but whispers
of success
Gist-Mill Reporter
Her secret clan She flattered herself Kind scribe A coup: He’s been reading the paper – Never weakness again. Had I annihilated, My secret posse I see the value of reading: Berdymukhammedov His portraits are everywhere. I am like that. She interrupted: She ruined He splashed The police [see New York Times, July 5, 2007, "Seeking New Leader's Persona In Turkmens' Murky Isolation," by C.J. Chivers, pp. A1, A7 ]
nonplus at dusk
must discuss
Turkmenistan
later on –
hush the literary
pretensions not macho
sociologist of the ‘hood
kindred big sister scribbler.
for hustling masses
on penthouse roof
yearning to be
squeegee squatters,
she fancied herself
Calliope
heroic
interview
her street gang
leader friend
who she taught to read
seems excited, says:
Hush now sister:
blown them,
turned their knives from my brother,
he would be Niyazov, but now
has exterminated all dares, and
I am Turkman,
Turkmenbashi
of the ‘hood,
author of proper terror,
novelist
to dream of territory
like Turkmenistan,
to be leader:
prefers newly bare deeds amuck in melee
and I
concur
They worship him, but
he can be kind.
You have graffitti everywhere,
he as portraits.
her student,
couldn’t save him.
his likeness everywhere
identified him
by his lost face on
every façade that
neighbors hated
—- Douglas Gilbert
Periods by “Diane”
I’ve had periods, but Grammar is the downfall
I don’t want them anymore,
anymore than a hole
in the head-
aching to be filled
with pointillist visions
impressionist dots like
the stars I would see
hitting my head in
frustration at
pontificating periods
given voice by grammarians
contrarians who though
might have a point
to run out when the
bleeding of words is
too much to speak
of many a poor girl
who doesn’t know
if she should lie
down in green pastures
or lay or have a lay or
if she should have lain
to be laid in New Orleans
lying to the setting sun
where the day lies
in sadness and shame
letting night fall by
the broken moon
—- Douglas Gilbert
Fault Circle
1.Flaw
The despair of a pear with blemishes:
they’d only consider
cuts away from wholeness
2.Love Not
Not well rounded
not shapely
to be loved like
a polished apple in
someone’s eye,
pears are love not
3.Ritual
Falling from grace
into promiscuous
fruit cocktails
the ménage ashamed became
4.Ecstasy
Mixing it up
stirring fruit juices
faux fulfillment of squeezes
temporary eases,
the lame excuses for more fruit were
5.Scars
Blemishes galore
none from glory
just adulterous
conquests in shame,
cuts away
from wholeness,
are despair
1.
The despair of a pear with blemishes
cutting away from wholeness
3.
Into promiscuous
fruit cocktails
the ménage ashamed became
5.
Blemishes galore
none from glory
1.
The pear is despair,
shame oozing
—- Douglas Gilbert
Pining
She opined in a breeze Even for they’d shine green I needed to let my I asked her once She’s not in back pages vines have
on evergreens
ticking off points
saps like me, my
ever-pines would
clock no time like
potted plants do: she promised
forever for me
passing brain storms lie, yet
branching thoughts,
light on trees, dimmed
before tinsel could be laid
to play around
combing cones
smelling needle resin
when I so young didn’t
know a mosaic virus
from a worm term
nor is tree disease, yet
the needling and needles
are gone, fallen down brown
creepy vines up dead trunks
sunken shadow hope, the
new face of bramble dread. Damn
grown over my
pine combed trees
bearing news of
winter death, ungreen sorrow
broken branches,
awaiting sparks, and
brittle burning
—- Douglas Gilbert
Kids Ask
His mother didn’t want to die alone, so no normal questions – ask your Father, when he gets Why doesn’t the horseman do direct deposit, If you lead a horse to water, change fathers in mid-stream, child knew somehow question about it,
this lonely, only child,
had his humanity
sucked up by her craving,
his love crushed by her appetite
like he was junk food. He had
his were why
does a cheetah not have wheels,
a bumble bee not have gasoline
engines for power,
a flower not sneeze when
allergic to people. She said
off his high horse,
if he comes home. That child’s
questioning continued
leave the money in the bank
leave us alone
why would you want it to drink–
won’t it get drunk. Shouldn’t you
take the rapids to divorce court
splash cologne on a fish. This
Mom, missing answers,
asking no questions
would jump off the roof,
try to take him with her
but being very astute
he’d live alone
run away. No
he can fly alone–
she can’t
missing love
ending
—- Douglas Gilbert
