Alex Gildzen

Traveling Alone: Poems 1981-1998



ACID RAIN

do they remember
when they were candles
those soft men at the bar

their talent
easy as
their looks

now no voices
only the long rain
pocking the rocks

hard enough to live
but to still burn
is the kiss of kings




PLATEAU & EPERGNE
for Richard Martin

cake & a pear
sugar cookies on salvers
& hanging from crystal bowls
grapes green & purple

Victor had longed so long
for the touch of damask
for the smudge
thumb leaves on pewter

but a tutor is never
alone in a house
after the teaching

the cake no doubt
is too moist
the grapes perhaps
just wax
& the endless silk
synthetic

Victor didn?t like
the children
probably would return
to public school
teach crafts
grow old
in style
die
having never seen
the queen





LAST POEM

in the cut gut of morning
a boat moors at my window
to waken me from sad dreams
with a snarl of bells

she waits while I dress
spit night from my mouth

I step thru the window
climb her steel belly
face the sun
which bleeds in my eyes

we bob on a bloatd sea
like a dead carp

no one tells me
if we sail for Japan
if we run guns
or rum

the boat moves
so I move

I want off
but fear
the jump
into black water

we float to the edge
of the world





WALKING TO THE GYM
ON A SEPTEMBER MORNING
BEFORE SUNRISE


deathbed kiss of the moon
ice shot to the sphincter





FIRE IN THE ROCK

bituminous seams combust
the hills are burning
black heart of coal
succumbs to flame
__________________________________
you struck me
releasd love
__________________________________
pillows of smoke





ON ONE

the green tea in my cup grew cold
& the cauliflower on my teapot turnd black
as I waitd in queue for permission
to return to you

I found a hair of yrs in the toe
of my Tangier slipper
on the way to the bank on the embankment
I thot I must be allowd to go home
so you can break in the slippers for me
like you sd you wd
the day they put me on the plane

I haven't traveled alone
in so long
I forgot how much
waiters hate to wait
on one





ANCHORAGE

I'm yr anchor touch me
when nectar strangles
hummingbirds

I'm yr anchor seize me
when boots unbuckle
parquet

I'm yr anchor caress me
when demonomania seeks
shelter

I'm yr anchor grab me
when rumbustious seas
overwhelm

ONE HUNDRED ANSWERS
for Tom Beckett with thanks
for Wagers of Synthesis


No tax on grandmother's sin.
Usually.
In common sense.
Not now but ...
sneak into shebeens
pilfer petunias.
I don't mime
what I think
but I mind
what my thoughts
spit.
Like hedges.
Little digits.
Standing apart.
Becoming dextrose.
Beckett did.
From the crackle of the hydrate
both
red eye




BLIND.

Tree bark
softly
commonly
pee wee
openly.
Indignation must
assassinate
knots.
Presidents know
how to turn it on.
She's too full of
finger prince
to realize
a firm equivalent.
None.
When snow thins:
mud.

I forget.
Because
my sex is rising
on the screen.
Drawn off gas.
Sylvia wants
certainly
at any price
but won't strip
on the mountain
without protection.
Oh yeah
yr turn.
As in ozone
or silicon
the show was canceld.
In the dark
you wilt.
I project
affirmation
if you ask
or eat waffles
if you can't.
I appear
closer than I am
from arm's length
but only
in danger
in danger I sd.
Only a moviegoer
without peer
peeing
between features.
I fear
answers
dispensd anally.
Sleeping
thru the rip of a fiction.
Literary residue.
Never
sell sails
to sailors
unless their pants are tight.

When our flies are open
we can't finish.
Both of us
spell check
mandamus.
Actually the famous
aim us toward
negativity.
Midgets check
condoms
for tiny holes for
the President
when he visits the trailer park.
In repose
words filter hydrageas
but never trapezehedrons.
Not now but ...
a cosmonaut
always
taxonomizes sun.



Alex Gildzen lived & wrote for many years in Ohio. he now lives & writes in New Mexico. his cat Melina usually sits by his side when he types. sometimes she tries to type too.

website: www.cybermesa.com/~takis

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