The Sirens of October

she said though didn't(& all
along st. germain cafes
were overflowing)that
sound like oh
me oh my i
'm a fool
for you
bab
y

(tall beers
little mugs
of espresso)?

i said yes but
;she said basic
ally(steaming)your a
rguments always begin with agree
ments & i find that so dis
concert(every fifteen minutes)
ing. i said well i
hear a different chord &
be(packs of motorcycles)sides do
you hear crazy crazy crazy

(sirens
waffling)? shh!
she said(blasted
up st. michel)but
the song ended
&(over the seine)
there was nothing left
to do(across ile de
la cite)but

order pommes frites &
read e(chasing).e.(rumors)
cummings:



(Arkansas Magazine, Arkansas Democrat, November 16, 1986)

1. AL's Broken Promise to Alice 2. What AL Told Alice When She Called From St. Louis in 1958. 3. What AL Was Thinking When He Hung Up Twenty Years Later.

1.

Dear, I'll take you dancing
in a club for madmen only.
I move like a falling star--hold tight!
We'll shoot above the dance floor
like swirling shafts of light,
but when we strike the earth, my love,
great heaven splits a seam,
and I'll hand out immortality
like rainbows on a stick,
and all our friends turn into gods
when they partake of it.

2.

The days are hammered in
like mending nails,
working on me, sugar,
like wind on sails,
and I never thought
it could feel so good,
shaking that Faustus hood.

3.

These ties,
enter the heart,
lace through the brain,
entangle the soul in a Gordian knot.
I never was the Alexander type;
I'm a sucker in slow motion.


(Clifton, University of Cincinnati, Summer 1988)

They Do Not Take Heads At Sea

Being raised by the Pacific,
having felt the sand like quicksilver
running beneath my feet in the fringe,
and having fled the breakers
instead of riding them out--
I would change.

Having seen the sailors
with their pandas in San Diego,
and having weighed their pay of dissolution
against this landbound existence
that seethes with desert sand and rain--
I would change.

Having talked with fishermen,
and having walked the hard bound boats
that creak and groan for deeper seas
while pelicans pout on the mast,
and having asked what their nets yield
on this side and that, learning
they do not know all the net yields--
I would change.

Being raised by the Pacific,
having searched for shells with my feet
until my back blistered in the sun,
conscious then and knowing now
that anything at all is one--
I would change, I would change.


(Poems by Poet's Roundtable of Arkansas, 1982)

Exercise in Subterfuge

Of more interest than, say,
time blowing out its stars
is the effect of loving you
in darkness,
talking ourselves to sleep
while the last to speak
hears the heaving cosmos
roll and sigh,
our hearts traversing time,
traversing time for we have loved
inside the silent chains,
eyes closing them away,
and we have loved,
and love remains.


(Arkansas Magazine, Arkansas Democrat, March 17, 1985)