Monday, August 07, 2006


i remember missives and map-making
longing for travel
charting hollows
all the wanderings
we coursed at eighteen

in my dream we're adrift
you and i
one sail amongst all the ragged junks in China
maybe it's Karachi
maybe it's Baffin Bay
all the same
any place
any hour
the dun cloths shivering
over azure breaks
like lovers
nervously unlacing
for the first time
while they tie up, tie down
lash into each other
for the first time
all the first times
after they've been apart
trussing fingers and clenching toes
one moors
while one lets go
oranges crush beneath our feet
naked as we are
and wrapped up
in evening clothes
indigos and aubergines
lips locked in bows of gentian violet
bodies linked
in the cursive of Japan

of all the dreams
the longed-for shores
all I've ever wished is this
we will come together
while the world comes apart


srchngformystry said...

kissyface, i remain amazed by you.

Anonymous said...

As a lad I would bicycle on Saturdays to violin lessons. It was a grim, forced march on wheels.

Outbound, there was a convenient hedge wherein I could hide my violin whilst I explored places of greater interest. One of them was a gasoline service station. I was allowed to explore the mechanic's bays, look in wonder at the undersides of actual cars, and watch and yalk* to the mechanics as they worked. For an lad, this was heaven.

But the best part was in the office. There were racks upon racks of maps. Maps for every state. Maps of Canada and Mexico. And there were FREE.

I collected and treasured and studied these maps. Kept them for years, replacing the worn ones with brand new Free maps.

Inbound, I would retrieve my violin from the hedge, hide my new map wealth inside the case and pedal homeward where I knew I would find adventure in the maps.

I still do. But oh, what a treat it would be to have the maps of my childhood in hand, dreaming of what was, and is now gone.

* On re-reading, I find the word "yalk." I do not recognize such a word, but it seems apt. I will leave it as is. Yak and talk was what my mechanic gods and I did in those happy times.