Category Archives: Neruda

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Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Erasure, Experiment, Form, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Temporal Arts Collective: Paradise Lip. 7/27/2012. Ypsilanti, MI

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07/29/2012 · 12:15 pm

Three Sonnets

I

The earth shook when you came
—it did!—and time was like
nothing. And I trembled, as if
lost like smoke, then felt your

crazy cool water and I was
nothing. We said always, said rock.
I said: Let me be your
rock. I want the vast star

in your twilight heart with its
honey light and delights flaring through
your mouth. I’m hungry for the

world in your laugh. I want
to eat the darkness hidden behind
your eyes and I’m starving, darling

July 24, 2012. 6:18 p.m. EST. Milford, MI

II

The bees in
me begin to
sing as if
your love were

honey. I say,
“Honey, I am
stuck on you..
and I love

it, as stones
love sand—secretly—
through the richness

of June and
all the cold
time of winter

July 24, 2012. 6:48 p.m. EST. Milford, MI

 

III

What bird brought you so quickly to where
I live? I lived with so much slowness.
I filled goblets with all the cold scents
of winter and so much dark nothing each

night to these lips till you came with
gifts of the sun in your glance. Now
waves color your kisses with the blue light
of dawn. Perhaps you are a handful of

sun. I don’t know. I know I want
you as summer wants yellow, roses want red,
as a harvest hungers for a little rain.

Perhaps I’m too simple and too silly.
I don’t know, all I know is that
it’s simple to love you, silly not to

July 24, 2012. 8:06 p.m. EST. Milford, MI

 

(continuation of my experiment with vowels from Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets)

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Filed under Experiment, Form, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Sonnet XLIII

Night does not shatter the day
with shadows in this place when you are near,
the moon dresses you in its roots
and I am born in your hands
where life’s no longer restless, but a soft waltz
at every instant in soft beds,
I am tangled in the topaz
river of your glance. Let’s color the world

until the world blooms with our dreams.
Let our kisses bring the light of summer
falling to cover us with a new love

that rises once spring passes with the taste
of happy fruit and I am here, empty
and hungry, singing each syllable of your kiss

 

(continued experiment with Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets)

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Filed under Experiment, Form, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Spring, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Sonnet XLII

There is only so much light bursting
through a whisper to rise to singing:
I am thirsty for the planet
that passes for your lips,

for the fruit falling from your hair.
Bring me those swelling grapes, all day:
we’ll begin to make a world
that will last longer as this world

is of no use to us like
clothing and time. Dear, I have
a heart full of flowers and

I’m throwing its petals near your steps.
Quick! place them in your body
and they will bloom through your mouth

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Filed under Erasure, Experiment, Form, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

Two Sonnets

(constructed from a list of words that contain one or two vowels from Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets

I

You are like the crazy shadows of dawn,
so tender, so silent, so sweet like a whisper.
Love (I am filled of sun)

come, I’m thirsty for goblets of your cool water
kisses bursting with the fabrics and scents of noon:
all day I want to eat handfuls of waves

of honey falling from your hips.
Here is this heart I’ve made for you
burning with the odor of twilight. I don’t love you
with the speed of a puma, I love you

as rain falling on a road,
like apples love hands and lips.
I don’t know any other way except
in this simple form. Perhaps, there is no other way

 

II

You have the clarity of flowers in your eyes.
The wind and moon sing the hidden gifts
of your glance. The sun suddenly
trembled as a butterfly

as it came to envy a single finger of yours,
and how much more light it holds.
Each finger spoons away sorrow.
I don’t know how it happens.

It just happens. For it must have,
as I have the need to sing all day
for your summery skin.

I want to travel
the world of your kisses,
woven of wine, and blue sea salt and dreams

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Filed under Erasure, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

(Re)writings of Neruda’s ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’

I forged you from the depth of the sun. Oh the light wraps your white thighs in roses. I am the stone of the night that you occupy though it is more used to my sadness than you are in this hour where your waist of fog and gold topples me in a quick raid so rich I want to say ‘Listen I love you, love me, follow me in the dying deep hours over fields of wheat.’ I have seen clouds travel like white kisses in the pulsing twilight wind. The earth sings through the rivers of your eyes and fruit falls from the sun

 

I have a language full of wars and songs and birds and flowers flee from me this morning is full of your murmur falling with the summer’s wind

 

I am drunk from the grapes of your eyes

 

You were the gray twilight, lunar, burning like summer. I love you when the night gallops near the sea still (come sleep on your belly here sweet and silent and land in my arms of flames), you are the endless rose and long kisses of darkness, and your slender thighs smell like the first star of summer

 

I cast embers of longings across your eyes the world dropped in the wet streets. No one saw us. Here I am saying I am of smoke and solar currents of bitter sounds like I am crazy I can say nothing of the other side of the moon of your kiss but here girl come smoke the blue twilight in the summer of these eyes let’s see how many stars I have lost and burned

 

I like the morning stroking you, turning like a butterfly your eyes seem to unwind the light over me. I will persist hunting the words that begun on your lips

 

I love your body swamped in the night and I want to be the morning star kissing your eyes with happy flowers and rustic baskets of earth

 

I will go through the white hills of your white thighs woman and hope I am as light as water still songs are drowned in dark hazels of your eyes

 

I rise and flash falling in the twilight of your hair and I am smoke signals near the roses in your lap I am the one who sings drunk with honey from your hips, I am the silent night that flutters in your lips, filled with rivers of song and kisses of shadowy longing

 

I am the sea that beats across your eyes and the currents falling in your thighs

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Filed under Disaster, Eastern Michigan University, Erasure, Experiment, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Winter, Writing

January 11th Sonnet

I cast embers of longings across
your eyes the world dropped
in the wet streets                               Here I am

saying I am of smoke, solar
currents of bitter
sounds                   like I am crazy

      I can say nothing
of the other side
of the moon
of your kiss                but here,
girl, come smoke the blue twilight
of these eyes

let’s see how many stars
I have burned and lost

(constructed from Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair)

 

 

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Filed under Disaster, Eastern Michigan University, Erasure, Experiment, Form, Friends, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Winter, Writing

Fourteen Word Sonnet

I
cast
embers
of
longing
across
your
eyes

the
world
dropped
in
wet
streets

 

(an experiment with Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair where I made a list of all words containing only one or two vowels and composed a poem from that last)

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Filed under Disaster, Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Form, Friends, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Sonnets, Winter, Writing

Sonnet XIII

All quiet on the southern front.
The Weather Report: Sunny, a warm afternoon
shockingly orange, invitingly
meandering, immensely imposing                Watch out
for falling stars!        In Paris, piety and purity
when I needed help,             I got propaganda
—luxury taxis   toxic dispatches  and noisy
death machines        Gleaming city rising from ruins.
Can’t hide scars of war. Cold and white.
The vampire look just won’t die! Plaids notwithstanding,
A creative surprise   No room to waste    Home,
all the things he is and isn’t
Today—just the highlights, please I have
No room to waste

 

 

*Composed from rearranging titles of articles from The New York Times October 6, 2011 edition.

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Filed under Disaster, Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Form, Friends, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Neruda, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Spring, Summer, Ted Berrigan, Winter, Writing