Tag Archives: poetry

ANTHONY

ANTHONY

every which way
you were
a better human
being than me

found time to
send me
a birthday message
was planning for me
to fly from
Manchester
spend time with
you on
Manhattan island
celebrating New York

and that house where you
lived where
everything happened.
(wherever you were
everything
seemed to
happen)

Professor Emeritus (seriously
outranking me) out
there in
Kentucky

postcoloniality, ecology,
the political
landscape of
the South African novel

so kind
to me and I let our friendship
drift our connection
dither

and now looks like
whatever it means eight
years ago
you slipped off
the radar
I know what I fear it
might mean

one of the best
no longer
around
that laugh, that kindness
no longer here

NEVER SO MUCH


NEVER SO MUCH

she never so much
as gave me a glance
in the philosophy class
the entire year

reading Huckleberry Finn
to shut out
the ultimate boredom
of every lecture
(surely it
begs all
    sorts of questions
a philosopher so dull
he kills
  philosophy itself)

but don’t worry
not going to bore you
I have flashed
forward
fifty

and here I am
       again wondering
how I killed it all
when
  she just
wanted love
          needed me
to love her

dreaming the says it all dream
flowing out of our
sudden
    unexpected
perhaps final
exchange of messages

in
which

she picks me up
in her old beige
Datsun
    taking me
somewhere special our
final
   trip together

and My God! this little
ancient car
of yore has
      been Star-Trek supercharged
roars out onto
De Waal Drive heading
away from the University
somewhere
    she will
not say

and now
  to cap it all
this car has reclining black leather bucket seats
into which by
the G force
I am instantly
    backwards thrown

last but
    no way least
the old manual stick has gone
replaced by
mighty
   automatic transmission
and
  most strange big neon red
numbers on a strip with
gear selection
or
   ultimate speed
clear and
conspicuous demarcations

the last of which
          the one burning into
my brain
    is 72
         a big fat red 72
as if be
sign of
  some significance
of my 72nd birthday

but I’m cool
      the dream is cool
beyond
cool

and here dawn and day’s
reality quietly
ends it

BUT NO

BUT NO THANKS

thanks
but no

thanks

put way the glue,
the tape, the tacks
there is
no
quick fix here

might as well
look at the likeness
we how slap-
dash the thing
got crafted

damaged
beyond repair

and you in what
might pass for
artistic agony

crying out
in self-destructive rage

your wounds
my wounds

there’s all you know
about representation

all you feel
about transferability

WHERE THERE WAS

WHERE THERE WAS

where there
was hair

now only
a scrap of gray

scraping
of steel wool

she called me Adonis once
looking down from Olympus

in need of
worship, a fix, mortal love

sad play
on the mythology
the love for
one such
by Aphrodite

how close we came
to happiest transgression not
perfect
     re-enactment
is thing could only
trust to
the years
    to make clear

yesterday
     we laughed about it
feeling about as far from
goddess plus Adonis
as we
     might possibly be

wizened by time
every word weighted
a deeply
    considered miracle

what passing now between us
compacted by interpretation
upon interpretation

everything
     every trivia aspiring
at that moment
to satisfy
     epic proportions

and here we are
for what it is worth
for what
we are worth

brought to this moment
of measure, of
         considered forgiveness

acceptance of
all things

though I could have then
so should have then

asked for more
           could not
ask
for more

RIB

RIB

I came across Adam
in his fallen state
crying out
to God

demanding
that He return
that rib
He took

and that rib,
speaking of her,
we should now notice
how bereft of
hope she looks

fearing for that long
long line of forever daughters

doomed to hear
again and again
the self-pitying
accusatory dirge of
rib
  deprivation

aimed at Heaven
by all in that neverending
line of Adam’s sons