WINTER SOLSTICE
Here, where I wait,
it is ceaselessly dawn.
I have the silk of morning shadows,
the jewels of morning dew
as gifts for your return.
I. TCHAIKOVSKY’S DANCES DES CYGNES
It’s cold like wisdom is cold.
And there are no blankets warm enough
Here in this permanent dream.
Grief and his beautiful brother
The sun rose up to go this day,
As each day, together.
This is no simple task.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where everything begins.
It’s cold like wisdom is cold.
But the winter sparrows are singing
And I’ve got you for warmth.
II. RAVEL’S BOLERO
Her touch had a clinging divinity.
Empty and with spaces to be filled
She found me, reached out and touched me.
The sun in a voyeuristic daze
Grew hot as he watched us:
Two golden entwining wires on the world below.
This is not easy.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where everything must have meaning.
Her touch had a clinging divinity.
We shouted at the sun
And he shouted back at us.
III. MOZART’S JUPITER
Dignity, Beauty and Hope sang.
But when I woke they shattered
Like crystal mosaics of church saints.
Soon, like a trumpet, the sun
Began the chorus of sparrows
And the shouts of flowers.
This is no easy living.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where everything has grace.
Dignity, Beauty and Hope sang
On and on through the day
In the stained glass of your eyes.
IV. MORE MOZART’S JUPITER
In the morning we talk of evening
And the luxuries of night
From a bed that fears no stars.
The sun trembles behind the clouds
Who act like brazen women: loud
And wonderful in their curves of light.
This is no wake up and smile.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where anything can happen.
In the morning we talk of evening:
The lighting of candles, the warmth
of kissing; but who knows?
V. RIMSKY-KORSAKOV’S SCHEHERAZADE
Do spiders cry, weeping in their webs?
Caught in your arms, you condemn me,
But will not let me rise from your bed.
The sun is nowhere to be seen.
And only the silver blue glow
Of thick rain clouds says it is there.
This is not an easy task.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where meaning comes from nothing.
Do spiders cry, weeping in their webs?
I want to run. But the poison
Of your smile holds me close and near.
VI. RIMSKY-KORSAKOV’S SHEHEARZADE-LATER
And now the sun appears.
She needs spare gardens
For the flowers of her beauty.
The sun shines like renaissance paintings
Make it shine: all silver and breaking
With columns of rainbows.
This is like taking deep breaths.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where it’s hard to be poetic.
And now the sun appears
And we are given shadows, warmth
And a quick song sung by sparrows
in the spare garden.
VII. TCHAIKOVSKY’S DANSE ESPAGNOLE
Supposing the best about people
Is terrifically hard and harder still
When I wake up and leave my dreams.
The sun is rain puddle silver
As it bounces from cloud to cloud
Farther from our continuous dream.
I’m beginning to hate this.
This is yet another sunrise
Poem where it’s hard not to be cruel.
Supposing the best about people
I wake up, roll over
And pull close to you.
VIII. MUSSORGSKY’S PICTURES AT AN EXHIBITION
She loved playing God
In the coolness of morning
When I opened my eyes.
The sun was forbidden to me
As a pleasure for which
She found me unworthy.
This one hurts to do.
This yet another sunrise
Poem where words scare away sadness.
She loved playing God
Until we bowed down and kissed each other
In an apartment as cold as hell.