Young Eye

Young Eye

Mary is the eye of the flower,
a bud too young who
looks into the eyes of James saying
to herself, she is old enough for him,
and James to her gives the eye of the storm for one night,
the torment for the day, and
her name has been given to a hurricane
because he was a rogue wave goodbye


A Mérges-mérgező Miklos és Arpad

A Mérges-mérgező Miklos és Arpad

Lehetetlen magyar nyelvű verset írni a Google fordítással? A katasztrófa alig várja. Nézd alább.

Somebody said something about how “poisonous” and “angry” in Hungarian sounded similar. So, I thought, oh, an opportunity for an easy poem. Well, apparently that’s not exactly true, and it’s impossible to write an easy poem in Hungarian using the Google translator. Everything gets all twisted and mixed up. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t understand it at all. Anyway, I wasted a lot of time doing the below. I should have known better than to try. Now the day is off to a bad start, and I forgot what it is I wanted to do before I got distracted by a stray comment. Maybe I could take the same general ideas and start from scratch in English. Or trash this whole thing.(I’m trying to justify wasted time.)

Beszélgetés közben
A Mérges-mérgező Miklos és Arpad,
mint a kígyók,
injekciózni méreg
míg Igazság egy padon fekszik.

Vár a sztrájkra-ba
a beszélgetésbe.
During conversation
the angry-toxic Miklos and Arpad,
like snakes,
inject poison
while Truth lies on a bench.

One waits for the strike into
the conversation

“Sax Piano Bird” Gets Into “The Blog That Would Destroy the World”

“Sax Piano Bird” Gets Into “The Blog That Would Destroy the World”

    The poem Sax Piano Bird stood alone for a while and then was put into The Fog of the Caveman’s Blog.
    Then it had to be turned into prose for an entry in “The Blog That Would Destroy the World”:

Drowning in the Sealed Chamber

But here is one of the early versions:

    Sax Piano Bird

If you will play
I will kiss your tune lips
’cause anything goes when
slinking down your keyboard
tickling doleful note doodles
plinking your chords
caressing pianissimo
bopping forte, top a’ ya board,
chording love accolades
staying for improvisations
when cool mistys get hot. I shall be cool

when you transpose the glory
keys to high toned harmony
that sees me exposed
with whistling kisses blown
all sax-ified, but that’ll
be after a race. Y’ know

it was a mystery that
birds of a feather could
get the winner’s name
from the horse’s
mouthwash, but
I heard them say

she plays with her pet cockatoo
at the piano bar
down by the racetrack
at the end of the race, and
I saw you

The bird said, “Leave a tip”
I said, “Baby Needs Shoes to win,
place, or show me a new tune”

She nagged the feathers off it
to snatch bills
out of patrons’ hands

After she played with her cockatoo
I tipped it into a snifter
hoping she’d play with me
’cause I bet on the nag, then
I said
to the showers

I said
To install the clean
in a froth of warmth
above a soapy love,
join me in the shower stall
by the steamy wall
where flights of fancy
are never scrubbed. If you will,

then I, with fragrant soap,
will wash in tribute
the toe that tested my waters,
cleansing the foot feats that two-stepped
when I was a mere calf
and you were knee high
to a love
like a soap opera. Sing

in the shower from your diaphragm
where no melting soap is barred
while I swoosh below your breasts
with swirling helicopter hands
taking off with haste
as whirlybirds land
on nipple pads. When you say

taxi to the terminal
the refueling hose can dock
and the passengers can be served
hot blessings, but remember
the fifth race is soon,
time to place bets
by the river
on the sailboats, although
we could check out
the entries
swimming in the
racing waters

where in trepidation
you can put a toe
in the water of my soul
as I kiss it as
I would a child’s boo-boo

offering you
a future, a splash
of my essence; I
breathe your perfume
a cherry-flavored love

You undress in my river
and I kiss your thigh
in baptism before lips

Like a mallard
I swim aside,
a breast in hand
and hand in bush

All goes swimmingly,
as I reminisce
first kisses
raising my mast,
sailing our ship, and
now anything goes
even past
the sunset,
in moonlit tunes
splashed across the stars