PANTOUM FOR DARKNESS

PANTOUM FOR DARKNESS
—for Valera Stupachenko

The white shawl of fog covered the Baltic.
He said only time will tell if I was to believe.
The first sun in days made me nostalgic,
for the Gulf of Finland, a glistening reprieve.

He thought time would tell if I was to believe.
I had no words to say, the sun was shining
on the Gulf of Finland, a glistening reprieve
from the prison of winter ice; the streets blinding.

I had no words to say, the sun was shining.
I interrupted his morning prayers to take leave
from the prison of winter ice, the streets blinding.
I gathered carnations in order to be free,

interrupting his morning prayers to take my leave.
No anullment for grief, a dead wife’s pin.
I gathered carnations in order to be free
from committing yet another mortal sin.

No anullment for grief, a dead wife’s pin
underfoot, I couldn't shake the ghosts of suicide.
Who has committed yet another mortal sin?
Resurrection tainted the purity of love, we hid

underfoot, I couldn't shake the ghosts of suicide.
One’s whole life suddenly revolved around schedules.
Resurrection tainted the purity of love, we hid
in the closets of deceit, devouring those victuals.

One’s whole life suddenly revolved around schedules.
The curious human need for mysticism abounds
in the closets of deceit, devouring those victuals.
When we hunger for nourishment, religion resounds.

The curious human need for mysticism abounds
in the darkness of the year’s longest night.
We hunger for nourishment, religion resounds
in the passionate cry of desire for the light,

in the darkness of the year’s longest night.
I have no words to say, the sun is shining
in the passionate cry of desire for the light
from the prison of winter ice, the streets blinding.

The first sun in days made me nostalgic
for the white shawl of fog that covered the Baltic.

5/29/92

SHORT PANTOUM FOR THE BABARIAN

SHORT PANTOUM FOR THE BABARIAN

Calling it love, why do we choose to suffer instead;
because we feel it anew with each passing?
Inside the skull of night, I hesitate to disturb the spider's web.€
Blue skin on the surface of the water. It's beginning.

You talk about corporate structure and high finance,
trapped in the prison of your own choosing.
Our governments consider bilateral disarmament.
We proclaim the moon's in void. I live in the country.€

And feeling used, you said we all use each other
Freudian slip. They say Freud was a cross-dresser.
Plant a tree so it may discover quadralateral symmetry.€
What does he know of the incestuous relationships of poets?€

I am sending you stones because I know nothing else.
The oracle tells us to be like trees, upright & strong€
My friend says each relationship is a stepping stone.€ L
Yes, winter is a voyage across the dark tundra sea.€

Inside the skull of night, I hesitate to disturb the spider's web.
Calling it love, why do we choose to suffer instead?

5/29/92