Michael Ondaatje

The Cinnamon Peeler

If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
And leave the yellow bark dust
On your pillow.

Your breasts and shoulders would reek
You could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.

Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to you hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.

I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
--your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...

When we swam once
I touched you in the water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
you climbed the bank and said

this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume

and knew

what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
Peeler's wife. Smell me.

Michael Ondaatje :

Gabriel Von Max

Leonard Cohen

Democracy

It's coming through a hole in the air,
from those nights in Tiananmen Square.
It's coming from the feel
that it ain't exactly real,
or it's real, but it ain't exactly there.
From the wars against disorder,
from the sirens night and day,
from the fires of the homeless,
from the ashes of the gay:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Leonard Cohen :

Michael Ondaatje

Bearhug

Griffin calls to come and kiss him goodnight
I yell ok. Finish something I'm doing,
then something else, walk slowly round
the corner to my son's room.
He is standing arms outstretched
waiting for a bearhug. Grinning.

Why do I give my emotion an animal's name,
give it that dark squeeze of death?
This is the hug which collects
all his small bones and his warm neck against me.
The thin tough body under the pyjamas
locks to me like a magnet of blood.

How long was he standing there
like that, before I came?

Michael Ondaatje :

Stanislav Istratov

Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849)

A Dream

      In visions of the dark night
        I have dreamed of joy departed-
      But a waking dream of life and light
        Hath left me broken-hearted.

      Ah! what is not a dream by day
        To him whose eyes are cast
      On things around him with a ray
        Turned back upon the past?

      That holy dream- that holy dream,
        While all the world were chiding,
      Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
        A lonely spirit guiding.

      What though that light, thro' storm and night,
        So trembled from afar-
      What could there be more purely bright
        In Truth's day-star?

Ernest Hilbert

Agostino Carracci (1557-1602)

Anna Swir (1909-1984)

 I Knocked My Head against the Wall

By Anna Swir 1909–1984

As a child
I put my finger in the fire
to become
a saint.


As a teenager
every day I would knock my head against the wall.


As a young girl
I went out through a window of a garret
to the roof
in order to jump.


As a woman
I had lice all over my body.
They cracked when I was ironing my sweater.


I waited sixty minutes
to be executed.
I was hungry for six years.


Then I bore a child,
they were carving me
without putting me to sleep.


Then a thunderbolt killed me
three times and I had to rise from the dead three times
without anyone’s help.


Now I am resting
after three resurrections.

René Schickele (1883-1940)

Eulogies
XVIII

They had buried me. I heard them say
I was dead.
But as the shiver of resurrection went through the earth
and the floods of the eternity reached me
with their starless blue days
I woke up in the light of your eyes and called,
called your name soundlessly.
You kissed me, and I became like your lips:
somewhat pale, turning a bloody dark in kiss
and merrily curved, became a high rose, your mouth in the wind,
to which this rose, shining from its purple depths,
bent down, weighted down, to open for a kiss.

Lobsprüche

Vladimir Kuzman

Bob Kaufman (1925-1986)

I Have Folded My Sorrows
I have folded my sorrows into the mantle of summer night,
Assigning each brief storm its alloted space in time,
Quietly pursuing catastrophic histories buried in my eyes.
And yes, the world is not some unplayed Cosmic Game,
And the sun is still ninety-three million miles from me,
And in the imaginary forest, the shingles hippo becomes the gay unicorn.
No, my traffic is not addled keepers of yesterday's disasters,
Seekers of manifest disembowelment on shafts of yesterday's pains.
Blues come dressed like introspective echoes of a journey.
And yes, I have searched the rooms of the moon on cold summer nights.
And yes, I have refought those unfinished encounters. Still, they remain unfinished.
And yes, I have at times wished myself something different.

The tragedies are sung nightly at the funerals of the poet;
The revisited soul is wrapped in the aura of familiarity.

Leonard Cohen - Born in Chains

"Born In Chains"

[SHARON, HATTIE AND CHARLEY]
I was born...

[LEONARD]
I was born in chains but I was taken out of Egypt
I was bound to a burden, but the burden it was raised
Oh Lord I can no longer keep this secret
Blessed is the name, the name be praised.

[SHARON]
I fled to the edge of a mighty sea of sorrow
Pursued by the armies of a cruel and dark regime
But the waters parted and my soul crossed over
Out of Egypt, out of Pharaoh’s dream.

[LEONARD]
Word of words and the measure of all measures
Blessed is the name, the name be blessed
Written on my heart in burning letters
That’s all I know, I do not know the rest

[HATTIE]
I was idled with my soul, when I heard that you could use me
I followed very closely, but my life remained the same
But then you showed me where you had been wounded
In every atom spoken is the name

[CHARLEY]
I was lost on the road, your love was so confusing
And all the teachers told me that I had myself to blame
But in the arms? stands? the? illusion
The sweet unknowing unifies the name

[LEONARD]
Word of words, and the measure of all measures
Blessed is the name, the name be blessed
Written on my heart in burning letters
That’s all I know, I cannot read the rest

[LEONARD]
I heard the soul unfolds in the chambers of this longing
As the bitter liquor sweetens in the amber cup
Ah but all the ladders of the night have fallen
Just darkness now, to lift the longing up.

[LEONARD]
Word of words and measure of all measures
Blessed is the name, the name be blessed
Written on my heart in burning letters
That’s all I know, I cannot read the rest

[SHARON, HATTIE AND CHARLEY]
Just darkness now, to lift the spirit up

Max Fesi

Pat Benatar

"Hit Me With Your Best Shot"

Well you're the real tough cookie
With the long history
Of breaking little hearts
Like the one in me
That's OK,
Lets see how you do it
Put up your dukes,
Lets get down to it
Hit me with your best shot
Why don't you hit me
With your best shot
Hit me with your best shot
Fire Away

You come on with a "come on"
You don't fight fair
But that's OK, see if I care
Knock me down, it's all in vain
I'll get right back on my feet again

Hit me with your best shot
Why don't you hit me
With your best shot
Hit me with your best shot
Fire Away

Well, you're the real tough cookie
With the long history
Of breaking little hearts
Like the one in me
Before I put another notch
In my lipstick case
You better make sure
You put me in my place

Hit me with your best shot
Come On, hit me with your best shot
Hit me with your best shot
Fire Away

Hit me with your best shot
Why don't you hit me with your best shot
Hit me with your best shot
Fire Away

Michael Cheval

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda :

Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966)

A widow in black



A widow in black -- the crying fall
Covers all hearts with a depressing cloud...
While her man's words are clearly recalled,
She will not stop her lamentations loud.
It will be so, until the snow puff
Will give a mercy to the pined and tired.
Forgetfulness of suffering and love --
Though paid by life -- what more could be desired?


Anna Akhmatova

Nicanor Parra

Warnings

In case of fire
Do not use elevators
Use stairways
unless otherwise instructed

No smoking
No littering
No shitting
No radio playing
unless otherwise instructed
Please Flush Toilet
After Each Use
Except When Train
Is Standing At Station
Be thoughtful
Of The Next Passenger
Onward Christian Soldiers
Workers of the World unite
We have nothing to loose [sic]
but our life Glory to the Father
& to the Son & to the Holy Ghost
unless otherwise instructed
By the way
We also hold these truths to be
self evident
That all man [sic] are created
That they have been endowed
by their creator
With certain inalienable rights
That among these are: Life
Liberty & the pursuit of happiness
& last but not least
that 2 + 2 makes 4
unless otherwise instructed

Nicanor Parra :

Eddy Stevens

Ted Kooser

"Now the seasons are closing their files
on each of us, the heavy drawers
full of certificates rolling back
into the tree trunks, a few old papers
flocking away. Someone we loved
has fallen from our thoughts,
making a little, glittering splash
like a bicycle pushed by a breeze.
Otherwise, not much has happened;
we fell in love again, finding
that one red reather on the wind."-   Ted Kooser, Year's End

Denise Levertov

Hymn To Eros

O Eros, silently smiling one, hear me.
Let the shadow of thy wings
brush me.
Let thy presence
enfold me, as if darkness
were swandown.
Let me see that darkness
lamp in hand,
this country become
the other country
sacred to desire.

Drowsy god,
slow the wheels of my thought
so that I listen only
to the snowfall hush of
thy circling.
Close my beloved with me
in the smoke ring of thy power,
that we way be, each to the other,
figures of flame,
figures of smoke,
figures of flesh
newly seen in the dusk.

 

Denise Levertov :

Johan Van Mullen

Charles Simic

The School Of Metaphysics

Executioner happy to explain
How his wristwatch works
As he shadows me on the street.
I call him that because he is grim and officious
And wears black.

The clock on the church tower
Had stopped at five to eleven.
The morning newspapers had no date.
The gray building on the corner
Could've been a state pen,

And then he showed up with his watch,
Whose Gothic numerals
And the absence of hands
He wanted me to understand
Right then and there.

Charles Simic :

Steely Dan - Pretzel Logic

---

RIKKI DON'T LOSE THAT NUMBER

We hear you're leaving, that's OK
I thought our little wild time had just begun
I guess you kind of scared yourself, you turn and run
But if you have a change of heartCHORUS:
Rikki don't lose that number
You don't wanna call nobody else
Send it off in a letter to yourself
Rikki don't lose that number
It's the only one you own
You might use it if you feel better
When you get homeI have a friend in town, he's heard your name
We can go out driving on Slow Hand Row
We could stay inside and play games, I don't know
And you could have a change of heartCHORUSYou tell yourself you're not my kind
But you don't even know your mind
And you could have a change of heartCHORUS

Phil Defer

Ingeborg Bachman

The Broken Heart

News o' grief had overteaken
Dark-eyed Fanny, now vorseaken;
There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven,
While vrom zide to zide, wi' grieven,
Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepen
Down her cheaks, in bitter weepen.
There wer still the ribbon-bow
She tied avore her hour ov woe,
An' there wer still the hans that tied it
Hangen white,
Or wringen tight,
In ceare that drowned all ceare bezide it.

When a man, wi' heartless slighten,
Mid become a maiden's blighten,
He mid cearelessly vorseake her,
But must answer to her Meaker;
He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness,
All her deeds o' loven-kindness,
God wull waigh 'em wi' the slighten
That mid be her love's requiten;
He do look on each deceiver,
He do know
What weight o' woe
Do break the heart ov ev'ry griever.

 

Ingeborg Bachmann :

Karl Shapiro (1913-2000)

Manhole Covers

The beauty of manhole covers--what of that?
Like medals struck by a great savage khan,
Like Mayan calendar stones, unliftable, indecipherable,
Not like the old electrum, chased and scored,
Mottoed and sculptured to a turn,
But notched and whelked and pocked and smashed
With the great company names
(Gentle Bethlehem, smiling United States).
This rustproof artifact of my street,
Long after roads are melted away will lie
Sidewise in the grave of the iron-old world,
Bitten at the edges,
Strong with its cryptic American,
Its dated beauty.

 

Karl Shapiro :

Jack Gaughan