Distant Dust

Dust

when I turn to diamonds

will you wear me in your hair?

will you wear me on your fingers

or in your tiny ears

like stars in your black night?

fondled forever by many eyes

wondering who your diamonds were

before they became jewels for you

<>

When I turn to night

will you bring me daybreak?

will you bring me stars

or the moonlight

with its every-greedy movement

across your endless sky?

wondering where this night was

before it became the dawn

<>

when I turn to dust

will you blow me away?

will you gather me in your hands

or in a crystal box?

with your smiles the seal

and its sides your tears?

as you wonder who I was

to turn to dust for you

<>

I ask, for you see,

I too shall become

dust fragile

night invisible

diamond transparent

and I have to know

before I turn

before I turn

before I turn to you

Oct/70

Beware the love-lorn fool who knows how to use language to over-state his case 🙂 This piece is entirely an exercise in language not one about an actual person or experience. I get a rather middle-eastern vibe from it now – maybe the influence of Kahlil Gilbran – who wrote about love in similar  lofty, selfless, intellectual language. It makes me think of young girls who want to kiss some idol without it going further than that.

Today I am struck by the lack of sexuality, of lust, of carnality in this piece. Why was I reluctant to be explicit? Partly out of a sense of shame. The purer the emotional the more ethical, the more spiritual it is. To admit physical longing was base & not spiritual at all.

I am amused by the ‘fragility’ of it after the rough ‘rrr’s of Woodsman :-). It has a very pop song structure with images leading to the wrap up in the final verse. I was/am fond of theme & variation when I write poetry. I also enjoy patterned structure that isn’t rhyme or meter but image construct & repeated words ‘when I turn to’ ‘will you’ ‘wonder/wondering’. A structure that ties the verses together.

A structure that ends with that last verse. By which the reader doesn’t know of the object of affection even knows it is an object of affection. That unattainable object of desire that only exists in the mind of the poet. The ending is ambiguous – is the poet transforming into the object or finally ready to confront the object of desire. Or are both dust on the mirror that keeps the reader from seeing themselves 🙂

I do have a limited number of the original Distant Music chapbook for sale for $25.00 each (includes surface mail postage). Send via the paypal above along with where to send it.

paypal.me/TOpoet 

Liszt

I fell in love with Liszt, before even knowing who he was, thanks to a cartoon – Woody Woodpecker (I think) in which they were moving a piano down a mountain while Woody played it – the truck went out of control while he was playing & with each turn the keyboard would get more splayed out & the music wold get more frantic. The piece was the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=23&v=R1laz-7C2KM

Over the years I have built up a fair collection: Rhapsodies for Orchestra; Orchestral Works: 7 cds; Hungarian Rhapsodies complete; Spanish/Rumanian Rhapsodies; Opera Transcriptions; Thiollier: Sonata/Mephisto; Beethoven Transcriptions; an Mp3 collection: Peter Katin/ Yudina/Johannsen/ Vazaonyi/ with Beethoven’s Music for Two Piano.

At first I has assumed Liszt only wrote piano music & only those Rhapsodies & of course the Mephisto Waltz. So finding his orchestral works was most welcome though it doesn’t have the over-the-top energy of his piano music. Then I came across his transcriptions of operas & of Beethoven’s symphonies. What better combination is there than Beethoven & Liszt: both over-the-top romantics & in Liszt case, pyrotechnic show-offs.

I had some of these as lps to cds transfers: Peter Katin & Balint Vazsonyl – were favourites of mine that I decided to see if I could replace my originals & found them both on iTunes. The Vazonyl take on the Hungarian Rhapsodies was the first I’d heard & remains my favourite for its attack. In searching these out I came across a set of his work for organ! Sweet, sonorous & more meditative than I had expected Liszt to be.

I never heard his name pronounced when I first discovered him so I would say it as Lizzt – a friend of mine who studied music didn’t know who I was talking about then pointed out that the z is silent. Same with Chop-in 🙂

Fortunate

‘I’m looking for a CD by Los Grasios.’

The clerk typed the name into the computer. ‘Is that l-o-s ?’

‘I think so.’ I had seen their video on TV a few nights before. Grazing from channel to channel, hoping to find something to hold my interest. It was the Latino network. The group was four dark swarthy adult males – a rarity in pop anywhere it seemed to me – and the song full of energy in a language I didn’t understand. I’d scribbled the name down when it flashed on the screen at the end of the video.

‘Nope. Not here. Let’s try l-a-s. Nope. Anything else to go on?’

‘The song was called Fortunata or Fortunatosa. Something like that.’

The clerk tapped that in. ‘Hmmm. Looks like we have lots to choose from now. Was it Fortunate Adam?’

“No.”

  “Fortunate Encountre?”

“No.”

  “Fortunate For Me?”

“No.”

“Fortunate Son? Fortunate Sunrise? Fortunate In Love? Fortunate Sea? Fortunate Moon? I See a Fortune in Your Eyes?’

‘No to all of those.’

‘There are nearly 200 numbers with Fortune something in the title. Should I go through them all?’

‘Would you?’

‘No. I was just joking. Now, you are sure of the name?’

I took out the paper I had dashed the name on and passed to the clerk.

‘Hmm. Let’s try Los Girios. You a fan of Latino music?’

‘Just starting.’

‘Well! Looks like we have a hit. Hijo Afortunado’

I followed her to the far end of store to the South American aisle.

‘Here it is.’ she pulled out a couple of CD’s by the band and looked at them. ‘Looks interesting. Not the usual stuff people want here. If you like these guys you may enjoy Mercedes Sosa.’ She handed me the cds.

‘Yes, this is them. How do you know Sosa is similar?’

‘Just a stab. She sings on one of the cuts with them, and she is huge. Out sells Eglasias.’

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

November 15: Hot Damn! It’s a Queer Slam – 8p.m. – Buddies In Bad Time Theatre, Toronto
http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday

October 5/6/7 – Gratitude Round-Up

https://www.facebook.com/TorontoGratitudeRoundup/

October scary poetry every Wednesday & Thursday

June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

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‘a crown of kisses’

sample

The Coronation

a crown of kisses

flickers like fire flies

dangling in the leafy branches

lip smacking wet

lures me along the sidewalk

after the rain

late night empty streets

we had a fraction of a second

to complete the next connection

an inking of an idea

leads me through the rain drops

through the candy buttons

on a glowing shirt

leafy green wet slippery

caught up in the branch

the turn of the creek

the bend of the elbow

a touch of lips on cheek

lingers and lunges

water in a rush sudden flood

rain pent up for days

in a humid cloud embrace

release refreshed

dangerously liberated

but not wet enough

to put out the fire

in this crown of kisses

this inside kicky swing

the next morning

yellow butterflies sip

in the fallen broken branches

of the nutmeg tree

beg for more sugar nectar

a chance to touch your neck

for the opportunity to be next

when there are new clouds to gather

to fumble the many shiny buttons

at the bottom of a drawer

that rattle like coins in a piggy bank

flutter in the stomach

as nervous as I was when I wanted

to give you a crown of kisses

know that even misses the mark

the mark of try again

in the folds of your charms

in the scratch at the door

to be let out

to howl once more

the moon the stars

sky stuck strapped forever

into that firmament

too far to escape

too late to apologize

and in a faction of a second

to dart from house to house

telling everyone who would listen

that we had finally worn

the crown of kisses

moon03 full moon

For February I’m dipping into some older, romantic pieces. This one clearly shows the influences of both Dylan Thomas & Alan Ginsburg. Reading after not seeing it for many years I get the sweet bounce of ‘the fuse that drives the flower green’ – Thomas’s complex use of nature imagery, color and emotion. Mine isn’t as complex, I think, and nature quickly gives way to flesh.

I structure it with theme and variation – images appear then re-appear in slightly different forms – water, rain, leaves, kisses mutate from fire flies to butterflies – butterflies real then symbolic. Lots of smell and taste gets played with too, touch, sensations – the wet of leaves, the taste & smell of nutmeg – ways of giving the reader a sensory experience.

moon02

shine on

There is also a sense of youth, of hormones kicking in – the silent imperative of those early stirrings, the need to experience something one may not even know what it is – the dog scratching at the door of adulthood.

moon01 where I saw you dancing

Of course kisses pushes this urge into a clearly, for me, sexual self-discovery. The first kiss, the first base, the first shooting off, like shooting stars – scary and spectacular at the same time. It was a fun piece to write, edit & perform. It’s good have pieces about the sensual without feeling the need to be explicit or that I’m hiding the explicit with pretty images.

moon

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