Thursday, November 22, 2012

Waiting for the Sandman


On the beach, watching the darkening 

Expanses above and beyond of what seem 
To be dreamy remnants of a childhood 

Imagination, we wait impatiently 
For the imp of the universe to give us 

One more heavenly unfathomable shot. 


7 comments:

  1. And about a million camera shots that'll make little of it in time when there could have been more....How we miss what is beyond that focal length of a lens..
    Great piece

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  2. Not nearly as good as yours, and on a different wavelength anyway—from "another life," in fact—but:

    SANDMAN

    I’m up at midnight, sleepless, hunting
    for the sandman in a tumbler of whiskey,
    neat. But really, not so neat. I’ve never

    “needed” drinks till these last few months,
    and it scares. I used to know how to kiss
    my scars asleep with a sigh, or by walking

    them up and down like fussy babies, or
    shutting them up with a crow-like laugh;
    knowing that love was a waste of breath,

    I taught myself how not to breathe. But
    she’s made me forget all that—so that now
    the pain’s gotten too big for its britches;

    I can’t even get the dumb fucker drunk.
    And the sandman? He’s taken a powder
    with a rolled-up five and wants to talk,

    talk, talk about his sleepless life. Well,
    what can I do? I hug him like a brother.
    I let him cry on my shoulder till dawn.

    Thanksgiving night here. Thanks for all the fine poems past and to come, amigo....

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  3. "heavenly unfathomable shot": such density and force in these three words.

    Lovely crepuscular thing, this.

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  4. Thanks to all of you for not kicking any sand in my face over this one, guys.

    Moving on down the beach a bit to Joe’s wonderful poem, I’m sure he remembers this little ditty about the imp in question; and Wooden Boy’s use of “crepuscular” brings to mind this effort from the past.





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  5. "Your pulse is being taken / By twilight again." Wow! Neruda would be proud—whose first book was Crepusculario....

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  6. Thanks, Joe--I almost overlooked this remark--must be the twilight zone encircling my mind, which might also explain the fact that I didn't know Neruda's book had that title--thanks again, amigo!

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