Four Cantos


i. schizophrenic canto

in the quest of discovering
who I am
it is important to note
that I’m slightly less
than the sum of my two halves
the two hemispheres of my brain
exist in rapporto simbiotico

they share residence
in my oblong cranium
fraternal twins
with little in common
and seldom in agreement

my romantic mind
resides in eastern hemisphere
painting dazzling oils
in vibrant colours
of idyllic dreamscapes
where I am hero
to all who seek my heroism

my rational mind
lying parallel
taking potshots
blowing vast holes
unrelenting
unrepentant
common sense
into even the tawdriest
of my unfulfilled dreams

key to equalizing
my mania
with my depression
is the tolerance
which allows romance to dream
while reality sits idly by
waiting to clean up
telltale signs of
my destructive irrationality
in my fantastical fantasies of you…

ii tropical forest canto

I have dreams
of lush forests
meandering streams of rainwater
and bananas fresh off the tree
for breakfast at sunrise

you and I run naked
through our unspoiled eden
our fat little babies
playing symphonies
with the vocal instruments
of their musical laughter

midmorning
I teach our youngest
to swim in the pond
that lies at the base
of our waterfall

she giggles
at the slick touch
of the shimmering iridescent fish
as they swim
between her chubby little legs

happily exhausted
we recline
in the bright clean sunshine
of an ozone protected atmosphere
beads of water drying on our skin
in the light breeze

you are using a sliver of bamboo
that was downed
in the torrents of rain last night
to cut slices of pulpy mango
creamy avocado and crunchy chilis
for our lunch
on a bed of dew soaked spinach

sated
we lie down with our babies
naked to the world
and sleep

rain comes as always in the tropics
mid afternoon
first heavy droplets
steady torrents
horizontal sheets
invading every pore of skin
of foliage
air saturated with moisture

thunder awakens me
eden is gone
perfection is gone
children are gone
you are gone

and I cry myself back to sleep…

iii desert island canto

only to awaken
with crashing surf
on a flat of scorching sand
my pale flesh perforated
by the tiny granules

I sit up against the base
of a solitary palm
survey my surroundings

I am clothed
in dilapidated levis
fine blond body hair
faded tattoos
and fiery angelic mane

my only possessions
moleskine journal
fat, primary school pencil
and a sliver of bamboo
from another dream
to sharpen its point

this island is ten feet in diameter

on the horizon all about me
I see mighty metropolises
civilization scant cubits away
yet I cannot swim

dreams that I struggle to remember
contain fantasies of her
my muse
flickers of rainforest
to be written in fat graphite forms

my rational mind foretells
of exorcism
by means of spontaneous prosody
inoculation for heartbreak and loneliness

so I write of all the things
that my cowardice will not bring
and in doing so
I lessen the yearning

my mind’s eye struggles
to picture her face…


iv canto poetico

she walks into the café
ear buds in place
book in hand
goes to the counter
orders a marshmallow mocha

I look up from reading
“bum on the loose”
a particularly brutal
bukowski piece
that sums up my thoughts
on giants of literature

as I peer across
the ten feet that separate us
I see that she is engrossed
in william carlos williams

methinks, poet’s poet
as I look over the precipice
into her dark eyes
and the stray tuft of hair
that darkens her forehead

she looks up at me
with a quizzical smile
arches an eyebrow
opens door into her world

I grasp for the right words
as visions of rainforests
and waterfalls
cloud my romantic mind

oh no, here I go again…

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