Valentine’s Eve Dream

I’m in a bar in my (very nice) nightie.
An old burnt out white guy
out of Tucson asks me
“Did you come here for a change?”
I think he means something like
“Did you leave Boston for Santa Fe?”
so I say “I’ve been here
my whole
adult life.”

He tries to
put the make
on me
but I go back
to my cousins’ party
and put on
the wrong pair of shoes
and then can’t
get the car to turn off.

I need to find you
and beg you to take me back.

When I wake up
I realize I did indeed
come here for a change
except here
is not a guy in a bar
but the realm of dream.

Lust: A Pantoum by Paul Finucan

Lust

The spinning girl’s laughter
still echoes through the cafe
barely in her twenties
a flower in her hat

Still echoes through the cafe
bringing thoughts of Springtime
a flower in her hat
her arms thin and tan

Bringing thoughts of Springtime
a stirring of desire
her arms thin and tan
her blonde curls dancing

A stirring of desire
something old awakened
her blonde curls dancing
her dress short and sleeveless

Something old awakened
surprising and welcome
her dress short and sleeveless
suddenly I am giddy

Surprising and welcome
barely in her twenties
suddenly I am giddy
the spinning girl’s laughter.

 

My name is Paul Finucan. I just moved to New Mexico from Cleveland, Ohio in July of 2015 and live on the North slope of the Ortiz Mountain about 35 minutes South of Santa Fe. I am blessed with a breathtaking view of Santa Fe and the Sangre De Christos from my front porch. I knew in minutes that the Land of Entrapment had me in its grip.

Monday Feature: Michaela Kahn Muses on Love Poems

Musings on love poems, (post) Valentine’s Day …I’ve never been much of a love-poem writer. So many love poems are about falling in love rather than being in love, about love ten years later. Love and taking out the garbage, love and exhaustion, love and cellulite, love and the habits that are never ever going to go away.

Thinking about love poems and Valentine’s day, for some reason, e.e. cummings’ “anyone lived in a pretty how town” kept coming to mind. I first encountered this poem in high school, and although I liked it and felt mysteriously drawn to it, I didn’t really “get” it. Later, in college a professor mentioned that he never really understood how people could mistake those indefinite pronouns for what they really are in the poem (sort of metaphorical stand-in’s for proper names). And that “with up so floating many bells down” was a phrase that stood in for the town’s name. Hah! As soon as he said it my mind lit up. I can distinctly remember my heart beat faster as I re-read the poem, suddenly thinking of “anyone” as a specific person, and “noone” as his wife. (I have to admit, part of the adrenaline rush was because suddenly cummings, and my teacher, had opened up the possibilities of language for me in a way I had never conceived before.) From a terribly tragic (and confusing) poem – it had suddenly become a poem about love … And that trick of the indefinite pronouns meant that “anyone” and “noone” actually become “someones” and “everyones” on their wedding day. How romantic is that? Though it remains a poem with a haunting sadness, I think cummings’ poem includes love through the decades: the cellulite, the garbage, the times both happy and sad – “sun moon stars rain.”

anyone lived in a pretty how town

 

by e.e. cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

SAID VENUS TO MARS by Janet K. Brennan

SAID VENUS TO MARS
Janet K. Brennan

The groan of another day.
She is in her place
watching wind- born blossoms
in their journey to nowhere.
She catches them, lets them go,
inhaling sweet, those flowers,
sprinkled with perfume from Eros,
while you fly through your largest dream
pursuing destiny.
She teaches, you stagger,
blinded by the dust
from her heart swept clean.
Still you moan another day
not comprehending why
you love her so
even though
you knew before you came.

En Fin: original French poem and English translation by Ezra Katz

En Fin

S’il ne me restait que quelques jours à vivre
J’irais au sommet d’une montagne
Je mangerais tous les chocolats dans le magasin
Mes jours seraient précieux
Et je ne voudrais pas les gaspiller
Je parlerais à une personne intéressante
Regarderais tous les belles images du monde
Ecouterais tous les sons d’une ville
Je conduirais aux extrémités de la terre
Et à l’arrière
Je ferais tout ce que
Quelqu’un voudrait faire
Mais
En fin
Rien ne ramènerait les jours
Que j’aurai perdus avec vous

***

In the End

If I only had a few days to live
I would climb to the top of a mountain
I would eat all of the chocolates in the store
My days would be precious
And I would not waste them
I would talk to an interesting person
See all the beautiful sights of the world
Listen to all the sounds of a city
I would drive to the ends of the Earth
And back
I would do everything that
Anyone would ever want to do
But
In the end
Nothing would bring back the days
That I would loose with you

There Is A Beach by Miriam Sagan

A nice mention on Facebook by Claudia Long has led to some searching for this poem. Here it is, easy to find. It is from the collection LOVE AND DEATH. (With Renee Gregorio and Joan Logghe, Tres Chicas, 2011)

There is a beach

sea pale green to navy to aqua
pink or pale beige sand

there you are
setting two plastic beach chairs
in the waves

there you are
carrying our daughter
on your shoulders

now you are gone

there is a beach

there are two figures
in the waves

they might be us
or in a snapshot from the fifties
someone’s mother and father

now you are gone

it is 8 o’clock
I am reading a book
I am on page 14

it is 8:15
I am on page 36

I miss page 14
where the heroine
peeled an orange
in the dayroom

although page 36
is also pleasant
it has a train
and a sense of regret

the hands
of the clock move
and my hands
turn the pages
of the book
until the heroine
walks along the beach

the sea pale green to navy to aqua
the shore pebbly

you’re gone

Painting by  ,