why is the edge always windy?
at
Phromthep Cape the edge of the world my dress unloosened
wind ripped along the coast
drove along until it lifted
& we drove on jeep
around the roar’s extremities
( )
the Thai curry deepfried crab meat at Baan Rim Pa
sweet mint sauces
hung to our clothes as did rain
lawless waves clinging to cliff
long tailed boats tear
the Andaman sea with their unmuffled motors
soggy newspapers sopped up night’s moisture
clothes don’t dry here & matches don’t catch
only you were willing
( )
i had lost a day coming to Bangkok
“love shacks” “up to you” cafes
another life
gained
Paris St. Germain des Pres Rue Jacob your
reflection
on glass door walking toward me
through
garden archway—
never such a beautiful sight!
( )
to
the Louvre the bouqinistes
we went tired & drunk from love
in the late mornings
this sub-terranean language
like
discovering the hidden rooms in an old château
we find
our loves
—what i see
vastness and always water
( )
silvery
reflection of sky
teal Jura mountains
water oozed aqua laving over
how could i ask anything of you?
raining the rose opens
can life be passed when life is
offered?
the vine
will search the
divine quiet vineyards
roll in angles grapes green & deep red
( )
this opal rain on linden trees sunflowers
if i could bottle your voice
dappling mountains near church steeple & Romanesque rotunda of Lavigny—
did you call me this morning or was it a dream?
mother & child take shelter under church
porch
clouds blanket the Jura mountains near Geneva
disappearing into light
did you come to kiss me?
( )
listen the wind through grape
crevices
& leaves
like waves upset fibers tangled repeating
octaves tongues perched
shaped
in swan-light bodies float
on Lac Leman at Buchillon.
i lie on rocks glowing as your chest
& hear water’s memory
( )
les deux baigneurs frolic on surf board
algae legs dangling in
water
it seemed a promise
the beach everyday unmitigated
lost a black silk sweater
in Phnom Penh riding on motorcycle driver in front
you behind your arms around me darkness
& dust of the party-goers folding us
—where are you now?
( )
a pigeon windless
whaled up on my patio door
a
wingless bird carrying
unopened wind-knocking door
Originally published in The Kenyon Review.