Saturday, March 15, 2008

untitled pyramidic poem

a m
y o u
h a v e
a m o n g
h a r d e r
t h o u g h t
b r a n c h e s
s t r u g g l e s
r e j o i c e !

Monday, April 16, 2007

Open The Box


Open the box

See? It fits

in two parts

Hand and eye

Will, Vision

Patience and

your resolve

In your hall

wrapped cool

in black fur

a first home

this warming

mother scent

you remember

Soft embrace

in a nightly

Dear desired

I have asked

patiently to

speak to you

but you have

not answered

Goddess then

A frost just

asked when a

lady walking

warm wrapped

in black fur

passed again

by this wall

arresting an

overfull man

rounding the

corner by an

archway over

a flower bed

where a path

laid by some

gardener who

was tendered
as he tended

to passion's

moving thing

Proving thin

can grow fat

where joy in

labour joins

method to an

intent as it

leads to the

order sought

conscious or
not. Does it

much matter?

Egg or bird?

The thing or
the thought?

Home is what

we whispered

as we lay by

warm hearths

where gentle

speaking was

the order of

the air with

which breath

passed forth

returning to

our enriched

hearts where

our loss was

gladly, that

one unwanted

thing itself

we'd yearned

to be rid of

Overfull man

rounding the

corner by an

archway over

a flower bed

arrested one

warm wrapped

lady walking

and wondered

who arrested

whom? Flower

strewn petal


lay on black

narrow berms

of earth. In

the electric

lighted lawn

grass strips

and loam was

in them both

one filigree

fine pattern

which petals


did complete




Structure of

reality? and

what then? a

solution? an

answer? plan

of assembly?


Reading them

What a chore

A walk close

to this wall

could change

our thinking

Near a white

plaster wall


with current

an entranced

trunk stands

balancing on

one foot. On

the hairs of

the arms and

throughout a

whole inward

frame I feel

gripped by a

gods buzzing

bristling of

pure force--

Are we ready

for jolting?

Come on then

bring 'em on

those little

extra pieces

pierce amour


rattling all

organs which

you threw in

furtively of

an afternoon

but searched

to construct

in day again

after nights

vain, hoping

that when at

midnight, at

its stroking

these pieces

extra pieces

may assemble

themselves a

fit model--a

flying thing

For all toys

and even joy

seem in this

mortal realm

to just rust

dust, as did

flying's son

when the boy

fell aground

while called

forth from a

dream to fly

an action to

which intent

grave itself

must lead us

to a testing

toying model

Sighing sign

singing by a

soaring wing

The open box

hollowed out

to fit these


images, long

cherished in

lonely dusks

where violin

music called

from strings

recalled the

deep springs

from which a

memory draws

this antique

plastic wing

back to hand

Vision, will

and patience

Your resolve

to fashion a


an aeroplane


Open the box

one birthday

and you will

find there a

swirling ice

cream freeze

beautiful an

image beheld

as it begins

to melt into

an icy glaze

Last night's

kiss, caress

at cock crow

flew, though

every pore's

mouth sang a

song its ear

perfect knew

It seems sad

perhaps it's

natural that

our rise and

shine to the

world's work

should spell

an exit from

Eden's realm

where a wall

broken piece

by piece was

dissolved in

our electric

charge as it

wrought that

flesh change

exchange and

which ending

was replaced

by a need to

open the box

in the world

and organize

these pieces

12 character

per verse--a

little flute

trembling in

the throat a

chord played

from a bough

bowed from a

bellied bole

aimed upshot

to His cloud

from where a

golden misty

rain fell up

from a heart

the leaf let

fall up from

a mouth. Old

newspaper on

the pavement

twisting and

a paper bird

winding rose

Up! Up! came

calling when

man was then

youth and an

airplane sky

bloomed blue

and rose new

within him a

sighing song

you remember

See? it fits

Youth in age

Age in youth

Lovers lying

loving truth

Man with God

Songs within

Seed in womb

we all begin

Babe in arms

Arms embrace

All one Soul

face to face

Goddess then

who taught a


baby's swing

support when

cut could be

an ell stick

Hollowed out

the template

being you--a

little flute

Also the apt

divining rod

be fashioned

attracting a


source to it

One daughter

then you are

as childless

the pregnant

messenger to

deliver seed

To childless

men you tell

such arts as

men may need

to till them

all men as a

crop to soar

into blood's

fertile core

so that in a

drear moment

a word would

chime as the

phrase least


Note next to

one unheeded

the one lost

Goodbye then

Simple words


Goodbye kiss

The deed our

intention to

return to us

from I and I

the pleasure

as you liked

to say--that


of cherished

moments I am

slow to know

as your mind

all mornings

a hot coffee

cup unbrewed

You are best

latest, long

day followed

in whistling


as I've seen

you there at

fence picket

by bird cage

a sound come

from between

your teeth--

chirping, in

a sweet tone

You stood up

rose tip toe

to sew songs

to the wings

of songbirds

What then is

our rankling


wrangling in

defence that

marries with

an ill habit

of regret, O

solitude out

of which the

soul seeks a


the thin key

to unlock it

Desperate of

acts! You're

spore; blown

alone a leaf

in the drift

where vacuum

sucks, hurls

spiralling a

spar-stem in

gusts toward

an avoidance

A bitterness

The taste an

unlikely one

to better us

marring what

beauty, sent

to us from a

red hot Mars

and O, Venus

a warming of

breath's lip


breast's tip

across chest

glided crush

dust, O dust

without love

The gas tank

an affection

machine near

empty desert

sands scrape

a bared soul

Two hands at

a waist belt

buckle flash

trapped dark

excitement a

disgust with

horror mixed

and pleasure

So she stood

next morning

at the glass

an old dress

hanging from

a rusty wire

The holes of

her bathrobe

a spider web

masking such

odd exulting

secret power

Betrayed, he

you betrayed

trusting not

this passion

fleeing from

fleet Apollo

following at

flight speed

clumsily, in

song's ardor

And your ear

a split limb

concealed in

a dark arbor

Praying thus

for a kindly

father's aid

a frightened

quaking form

clung rooted

forever cast

as the waxen

green laurel

Here our way

forks from a

forest floor

Whitest this

a lily grows

under acorns

Needles fall

from spruces

Cone at pine

tip branched

here topples

Seeks a soil

Sends a root

shoot to sky

branching in

one filigree

air and tree

Scantling in


border light


Sweetness us

the lips are

still tingle

tart and the

fingertip to

fingertip to

squeeze; the

ten fingered

temple built

of two hands

Up above the

wood rafters

The two beer

on the table

Tingling lip

still ghosts

With them we

will play to

© 2001, 2020 Dan Goorevitch

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

The World Is

The world is

in spite its

seeming size

just a mural

and its wall

the mind, is

its mountain

to scale. If

she said, we

have courage

then come up

dear, ascend

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Caterpillar Boy

UP AND down
grey boughs


boy zigzags
up sidewalk

parkin' lot

is, already
in his mind

a butterfly

Midas's Song

The tower of
counted coin

the wheat of
my granaries

A paved road
for the cart

and the oxen
provided for

My men fitly
fed, attired

and mannered

Olive groves
in abundance

the orchards
fig and plum

Meat, fleece
of the lambs

Hecatombs of
fatted boars

A black bull
for the gods

Pyres raised
to the ether

Lush forests
yield timber

my shipyards
all business

Dawn to dusk
my potteries

the painters

Black beasts
wrestle with

Heracles, in
red outlines

And my ships
bearing gold

to pay hands
--all skills

The guilds a

by every man
who advances

the pregnant
contour, hue

the craft of
his ancestor

And I savour
rich texture

of both clay
and tapestry

Spice of the
foreign land

Cardamom for
a full table

Exotic cloth
for the wife

Peace--in an
orderly life

And my slave
is well-paid

his work not
too exacting

mind or body
not punished

if compliant
with the law

In every way
I am liberal

and civility
is my temper

And twilight

brings larks

to my garden
and vineyard

My forsythia
fresh yellow

Lilacs bloom
by the roses

Clematis and
ivy climb up

green crotch
of the trees

My starlings
flit & flirt

coquettes to
my eye, sore

bent over my
many ledgers

Line by line
the dull ink

this concern
and that one

Deluge after
drought, yet

My daughters
in fine wool

my sons hale
and handsome

The children
of my babies

the clenched
little fists

red-faced in
ornate tears

laughing are
pure delight

These are my
soil, my air

root, branch
shoot, bloom

quick growth
of my summer

wool blanket
to my winter

The arteries
of my health

and the pump
of my wealth

These hew my
soul's shape

No ink shows
it in tables

yet an order
built up and

in every way
sustained by

the tower of
counted coin

the wheat of
my granaries

Float, float
up to heaven

Midas's pure
sprung psalm

Holy Olympus
on its mount

azure, white

but its gods
heard "gold"

and "me" and

nothing else

© 2002 Dan Goorevitch