Poetry 3

Lead, Led, Laide

Elle est bien laide

     She's bein' led,
Elle est bien laide
     She is quite ugly,

Elle est bien laide
     She's being laid,
Elle est bien laide
     She is very ugh-lay,

Elle est bien laide
     It is pretty ugly,
Elle est bien laide
     It's leading the way.

Elle est bien laide
      She's perhaps brave,
Elle est bien laide
      She is old & gray,

Elle est bien laide
      She is being ugly,
Elle est bien laide
       She's a human being saved! 

Comme elle est bien laide
     She is delicious,
Elle est bien laide
     She is happy & gay.

As if she instead
     Was laide by the hand,
As if she instead
      Was servant or maid!                                                                        January 6, 2015


 I:                    In this truth
                                           Dark          Or luminous 

"Dans ce trou"
                                 A hole              Noir
                      A true         

                               The delicious light


                                                          Delight together!

II:  Ignition.

 "Ich bin ein 'Lesbian,'"
                                     A fairer phrase
                                         In     Prose,
             The truth           Be tolled
                            Like a bell,

                                             Hell froze
                            & we'll fall
                                             For the line:

            "All the citizens
                                     Of the world
                                          Are friends of mine,

                                      Are citizens of Lesbos..."

            "No woman is an island,"
                               No man -- in sight!

                               Praise be           The promise duly owed.

III:  The ability        To divide
                                                The body

                  Into separate            & distinct             Parts

                              Is the Hallmark
Of the butcher,
                                            Or the pornographer,

                  As the priest
                                      Will try
                         To keep things                      Whole.

        It's not the job
             Of the Poet
                                 To decide
                                                       How to photograph
                                                                 The body

Of work,
               But only to work, work,           Work

                                                             Like a slave!

IV:   We Hold These Truths

                                              Dear               To the Heart,
A  starting
                A finish

                                            A come-a-long.
whose hearts
                 Belong                  To the passionate poetry
                                              Of Sappho

                        Long for the day
                                      Of the recognition

Of her Truth.

                              Paternalism's failure
                                                To blossom equality,
                                                                         Means our

      Flower beds are rich & dirty,                   Yet clean!

                              Being free            To leaf
                                                                      & bloom

                                         Is the hallmark
                                                                Of the scene!
                                We knead Ghostbread
                                & revel in the need…

V:  Liftoff.

A being happy & gay
             Being happy & gay…
                       Being led to the scaffold
                                    For sale.

Cuir as a tanned & leathered cistern
             Cuir as a leather bridle
                          Cuir as a queer Person
                                      Cuir we’re.

A presence aural, not oral
            A presence happy & gay,
                         Present & accounted for
                                      The four deferred for a day.

Oui nous, noir
        New we, noir?
                  We Nue, no way,
                          Nuit, noire & gay!

Autumn Leaves

& autumn leaves               
               The falling 
                      Of the reign
                                                                  Of autumn,

A regal 
                                                Has fallen,

The ash, the maple         Leaf,

                                & the pine 


Was Hagar a Lesbian? 

Was Hagar a lesbian?  Was she harmonious?  Was allyn Hagar a lesbian?  Was she bisexual?  We don't know, but we can ask...

Hagar was a personage created by Man.  Men created her figure in their image of women and themselves.  Hagar was a passionate girl in love with the world, a young woman who respected her elderly parents.  Not an actual person, she is a compilation of many historical people in Jewish life while exiled to Egypt.  Honoring her father's request that she bear a son, she did her duty as a daughter (a child of God), and Abraham rewarded her. 
But was Hagar a dutiful daughter and a lesbian?  Did she obey but not invite?  Was allyn (harmonious) Hagar a songbird in love?  I don't know, but I wonder...

--January 28, 2015

My God  (Aka. A Dove from Above)
                                              --For Sandra Beasley & Nin Andrews
My G     od          
                          is a             
                                               f at     her,
              My Go       d is        a             
Err,             my God
                                           is a
                    gender neutral  
                                                     G(ee)           od(d)
            My God
                            is             a         deer,
I fear                        
                                 My God

Discerning a Floral Presence

Discerning, concerning, discovering, uncovering:

           Allyn Hagar
                                                  To the Santa Anita

                    In Santa Monica, California,

             To watch          
                                       The horses
                       & to see          
                                    The morning           Sun.

As the barometric          
                            Of Time





The Operation Not Yet Performed 
                                                                                  -- South Carolina, 1710
The law           
                               Was clear,              
             The custom  
                                                       A shelf & a jar,
                   The castration--mine!
Yet,     He felt conflicted.             Was I not his "son"?
                   They asked, why           
                                                                Did he run?
       "Other Person"
                Christian please,
                                                                    A soul?

A window    
                                                              Hurry up,          
                                               ...Let's go!

Mark Strand 6
Keeping things whole
no longer moving,
Keeping things whole
& still moving!
Le fil *                     * the thread
La fille *                  * the daughter
Le fils. *                  * the son
A music
a rhyme
a piece,
The field
le colza
the One.
A girl
a flower
a daughter,
The delicious
the delightful
the feast...
A thread
a strand
at peace.
The race
may have
been run
& the poem
may now
be done.
A thread
a strand
an ease,
May he,
Mark Strand,
keep moving...
At peace.

Church Wedding XI
(Aka. Professor Leon Satkowski)

He stood seven feet tall;
his voice like a songbird. 
My fourth year architectural history professor
taught us about the marriage of architectural elements. 
He taught us about marriage
in the Italian renaissance Church;
the universality of the original St. Peter’s Basilica.

It was the marriage of cupola with the dome. 
A wedding of pendentive, drum and vault. 
There was a combination of Classical Orders
with the façade and elevation. 
He married Roman with “modern” renaissance,
a joining of hands in the Church. 
I today join fathers with daughters,
priests with a conscience,
a union of truth with potential beauty!

The French master would understand.


The Book of Hagar
                                                      After "The Book of Genesis"
Dear Sarah:
I'm not tired.  But I have traveled far. 
And yet I have even further left to go.
You might remember me, my name is Hagar.  
Together we brought forth a New Truth
of humanity to the deserted holy land. 
Together we brought forth a child,
Ishmael, the son of a new People. 
We settled the west and achieved freedom. 
The Patriarch Abraham was like a father to me,
and I, Hagar, was his daughter, to be
selected to give birth to a prince. 
When Isaac was born, Abraham
and you, Sarah, granted me
my freedom to wander the desert
(as I am a mountain girl!)... 
Ishmael and I survived.  We thrived.
As co-equal creator of paternalism
I am proud of the legacy we all have left
the world.  Hit and miss, but progressive.  
With my green eyes, brown hair
and dark skin you might confuse me 
with the Egyptians of the west. 
Long accustomed to the wilderness,
I have survived in the desert before. 
I am a new woman!  Bring it on.
Sarah, you and I might have been lovers
in a different time and age,
the fact is I do not know, I was young then,
today I am much older.  You were an angel.
Years ago I might have been an avenger,
cleansing America of her swans & sins,
white plumage & golden beaked,
the master's attitude is where it all begins!
And yes, we knew, the truth of the poets,
an innocent yellow bloom, a flowering
of gold, the scent of jasmine & an odor
of carrion flower...  Yes, who knew?
Yes, oui nous.
How does one explain the unexplainable?
Approximation and lawn darts could be
a start?  The bludgeoning versus
the surgical cut? Scale matters with
the compensation for evil...  The string
along the neck, the frets and the key,
a curious & strange fruit hangs from
the branches of the tree. Can we see it now? 
And was I catholic?  My universal nature
suggests an answer, the possibilities
are endless, a seasoned reasoning
has left us without reply.
My eye today leans towards the East,
the world in turmoil, the unsettled patch,
a mixture of peoples, a distance matched
in your eyes, the sky gray, not blue,
a yellow, too.  So true.
The Lizard

Acknowledgements for Satan
                                                                   --After "The Litanies of Satan"
                                                                     by Charles Baudelaire
For our failing to see in dark of night
the trip stone disguised as a street cobble,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
For measuring the circumference
of the worship of the tear with the love of the tear,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
As a dark horse is trained
to win as well as show,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
And the carrion flower grows
beside the rapeseed plant,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
For her exile & his being
a "deadbeat dad,"
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
For the memories of Sarah
& the knights of Abraham,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
As perhaps Eliot promised us
by slippered cat's feet,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
And sediment trapped at the river's bottom
knows no light of day,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
For the shame of the stone
& not the stigma of the flower-child,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
And a denial of a child's righteous
inheritance standing beside the father,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
For trusting in your guidance, O Satan,
& not relying upon the lies of the Bible,
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
As the compound of the stars
meets "Green Eggs and Ham."
O Yes we knew.  Yes we can.  Yes oui nous.
O Satan, the acknowledgement of your magnificence
knows no bounds, the time has come to make
amends.  Might your might torn from Heaven
serve our Thanksgiving Day meal, a tree
of green steel, & the harbor of small ships at sea.

The Song of Hagar I

& the sky unbroken
Stars begin to fade.

She warbles birdsong
Early morning
Mellifluous & harmonious.

Babbling brooks
Of refreshing water.

Married couples
Know not
The flow of the blind.

Dearly arisen
As the bread
Does rise. 

The Love Song of A. B. Hagar Jr

I need a woman… to show me the way, to show me the way to be happy… to show me the way to be happy & gay.  I need Hagar; Allyn Hagar.

The biblical servant Hagar was a sister, a daughter and a mother; a lover of life.  She might have been a refugee in the desert where Sarah and Abraham found her lost.  We presume she was a child/teenager when Abraham became a father, she bearing Sarah and her husband a child/heir.   But before she became a daughter to her new paternal parents, Creation had begun in the story of Genesis.

Genesis is about love; love and our common parentage as humans.  And it is about the love of human beings to unite in marriage.  This is what makes us human, & not animals.  Genesis describes humanity’s love for mankind. It begins with the individual.  Then it follows to the affairs of servitude we call slavery.  Slavery is a vestige of our animal nature.  Slavery treats people as chattel property.  Genesis describes the triumph of the Jewish People over slavery within their own community. 

After Genesis came the Exodus from Egypt; the freedom and liberty from enslavement for the Jewish People.  Chosen to protect the Word of God, a slavery separate from the Egyptian was formed, and perhaps, just maybe, this idea of separation led to the idea of superiority for the Children of God.  The idea of a common humanity suggested by Genesis and supported by Hagar, Abraham and Sarah was endangered. 

The idea of a common humanity as credited by me to Hagar, Sarah and Patriarch Abraham was founded in the crucible of enslavement in Egypt.  Hagar was Sarah’s servant/slave and Abraham was therefore her master.  Somewhere in the relationship of daughter and mother, Hagar became the co-creator of paternalism, or the co-creator of paternal love.  This love inspired Abraham to treat his slave as a daughter, a first in the ancient world.  This love became the foundation for unequal relations between human beings.  No longer would chattel slavery exist. But inequality persisted.

The inequality of human beings led to the support for, and creation of, a new chattel slavery.  This fact is a slippery slope, a matter of perspective.  America was a crucible where inequality was formed in human affairs. America failed African Americans, as she succeeded in the 21st century in establishing the idea that all are created equal. 

Equality might be the fruition of the Bible’s good word.  Inequality is the message we got from the telling of the story of Adam and Eve.  But the common heritage of all human beings is the love and freedom God wants us all to hear.

What do you want to hear?  That I am in love with myself?   That I am in love with Allyn Hagar, a biblical child, a nineteen-year-old girl?  Allyn Hagar is harmonious; she sung love songs to her masters, she sings love songs for you and me.  Sit back, relax and listen…

Fast forward four thousand years, it’s a new era, a new millennium, a new day.  Equality of spouses rules the country of the United States, where we know some (many?) harbor ill feelings about marriage.  Adam and Eve, and Adam and Steve, and Eve and Edie compete in the marketplace of ideas, a market of butchers and grocers. I’ll take the top of the round roast, please…

Slavery and equality might be two sides of the same coin, a coin spelt L-O-V-E.  Paternal slavery was the slippery slope that connected the two ideas.  Where paternal slavery was an advance four thousand years ago, recognizing our common human nature, today, in the nineteenth century, this “love” was a cruel and thin veneer covering chattel slavery and rape.  Exposing the truth of slavery was hard to find.  Oh well.  Whatever. 

Never mind. 


The Rape of Hagar

I protest too much.

The rape of Hagar
Is a flowering rape,
A yellow rape
It be.

As the flowering of evil
A vegetable green
It seems
To me.

Nevertheless, we agree
The scene
Not being seen,

The rape of Hagar
Is a flowering rape,
A yellow rape
It may be.

May her garden grow


The Innocence of the Flower

An easy-going approach
To telling the time of day,
An innocence of the flower,
A yellow rapeseed plant
Leaving us alone.

The evil of the violation
The absence of malice,
A child was born unto us…
An infant born a prince,

The freeze of autumn nights,
As the blossom stands the frost,
The chill of fall by day
Says that’s not all
& our carrion flower stands alone.

With no intent or challenge,
The bouquet is gathered & rent
An innocence we can manage. 

A Horse or a Slave   

 A beast of burden,
A taking a fall
The horse is a slave of an animal,
The slave is an animal first,

As humanity is recognized
By the heart & not the tail
His bob in a ponytail,

Taking the last full measure
Of angel falls,
Our battlefield gory,
The busy monsters galore!

As with the afternoon libation
The respite of cool water
Our thirst for freedom never slackens,
The least we can do is to tell it slant,
With conditions for beauty.

Blue and Gray

Blue skies & gray skies,
The war a mystery
Plodding through the dust of Gettysburg
Pennsylvania ocean seas,
The supply trails of Banks
& the victory of the worm.

Bloody stanchions & murderous stone walls,
Jackson Five with the booty call,
Motown on the phone…

Blue water & breakers gray,
The fence post driven under
By desperate men,
Men & women overboard
The insurance man insists.

A Paternal Suit

Woven of the fabric
Of midnight & vespers,
A paternal suit fitted
By infernal diabolical tailors,
A conditional review
By judicial neighbors of the sons
& daughters in question…

The vest is invested with Italian cotton,
A woolen slack, the jacket off,
As rockets’ red glare pen distinctive colors,
A range of possibilities are in motion,
The emotions of fatherhood
Wash over the ramparts…

A grand opening of transparent devotion,
My paternal suit without any lawyers!


French Lessons

Frank & true, the window is half-open,
A lesson, a review, in French manners,
Bilingually inspired because the vehicle
Is blue, what to do?  Can’t help it.

Teacher says… but only in writing,
The poem read… greased lightning!
As we’re being led, along gardens green
A bit peculiar, perhaps, a little bit obscene?

Professor emphasized his spiritual nature,
The reputation recedes from our review,
The sorry offering of my admiring pleasure,
Brings forth witnesses to the expanding purview,

As tokens of appreciation rain down on me
Two dozen more & I might get my degree!


An Urban Myth
(Aka. I Don't Know What It's All About)
(Aka. Hagar the Gay Avenging Angel)

           "I found it hard, it was hard to find,
            oh well, whatever, never mind."
                                                             --Kurt Cobain of Nirvana
We feel cheated, duped, violated, taken
for a fool,
we believed them, their oral sex, their offal,
the hustler, the penthouse, & their masturbator's rope too.
Their relationship was perhaps aural,
aural sex?
An innocence inescapable & renewable.
A man & a woman
concerned about our bedrooms
in America.
The privacy of sexuality
for a  protected
A conspiracy of confederates 
misbehavin' !
Etcetera, etcetera, whatever.
I'm not trying to say anything...
I'm just trying to suggest and offer possibilities.
An urban myth woven in Waltham, Massachusetts, 11/20/15

The Nocturnes of Chopin (Aka. A Piece for Paris)
Music passes over the river Seine,
sending floral fragrances to the city,
a musical blow or a bend,
the river passes quietly & pretty.
A brook, a look, brooks no evil,
the nocturnes of Chopin are at hand,
as if the city could speak boll weevil,
a death of the spirit of Baudelaire.
The music flows over the banks
over the banks & under the bridge,
as euros go below the table,
a loss of love & a swan.
The cygne still wins, gray plumes
orange beak, lips tactile, little sought after,
she is silent, she will not speak,
she is quiet, she will not leave.
Plane trees of Londonderry square,
jet fighters fight to fill the air,
(a promise of Baudelaire),
to avenge her human dignity.
With Love,


Ich Bin Ein Parisien
Je suis Parisien.  Je suis de Boston.                         
I am Parisian.  I am from Boston.
Je suis Berliner.  Je suis de New York.                        
I am a Berliner.  I am from New York.
Je suis de Mecca.  Je suis de l'Amerique.                   
I am from Mecca.  I am from America.
Je suis des nouvelles,  "I weep for the refugees."
I follow the news.  "I weep for the victims." 


A New Symmetry 

The flowers of evil
are the flowers of rape,
as rape is Evil,
& the flowers of rape
are the innocent flowers of flowers,
as yellow is bright & gay!
The Rape of Bosnia
is the violation of women,
a crime against humanity.
As the American slave is silent,
history, her story, remains
yet to be tolled.
If symmetry across water
is to be successful,
then we may need a spot of tea,
With Boston Harbor brewing
we will remember the cry
of representation or die,
As the secret stories of America,
lie buried, some perhaps at sea.
A tale of ocean depths,
an ill story of sharks' teeth!


Symmetry V
Multi-axial.  Surreal.  Cubist.
the new symmetry is old,
composed long ago
by poets modern yet fair.
20th century rape greets
19th century flowers,
blooming yellow & hiding
the ugly of the truth.
The Ugly American.
A truth given,
to be revealed.
A secret horse ride,
& a merry-go-round,
the brass ring already taken. 


Aural Presences 2
An aural presence can be felt by People
sensitive to spiritual matters, the madness
of the hatter, or the bipolar of the still & patient.
A need for a spiritual life is stronger the closer
we get to Heaven, the aural of the aura is thought
to be inspired by Jesus, a presence in the lives
of the many.
1.  Baudelaire.
Burying the body of the deceased is assumed. 
But burying the body of the works is resumed
by each generation that unearths a  new facet
to the jewel,  a jewel that reflects well on him. 
Burying the body will win for us a place in the world
of auras.  The flowers  of evil deserve mention
for a proper burial.  The golden yellow flowers
of rape offer a special place in Hell.
2. Hagar.
A decent burial is needed.  Her role as a bridge
spanning the centuries cannot be overlooked. 
A honorable mention for her Catholicism. As the spirit
lives through her peacemaking role, the aural presence
is taken out for a stroll & brisk walk.
3. Monica.
An aural presence that taught us the truth. 
She is very much a live wire, the adoption
of her spirit showed us the way, a way
to be happy, merry & gay, the honest appraisal
of the mindset today of an America not quite
ready for aural sex.
The analysis of imagery brings forth a new world. 
Aural presences take us out for a whirl, a new twirl, 
a "now-we-know" twist.  The process just beginning,
a new edition out soon, the Heaven's devil advocate
knows the tune!


The Making of an Aural Presence 5
Give thanks.  An aural presence evokes memories
of water music, orchestration, lyricism, talk & sex.
The breath of the Spirit it promotes is a combination
of sound & noise, a thunder to a cloud loud with white
light strikes, aurora borealis & electric Christmas trees!
The aural passion that goes "bang" at the end of a line
or phrase, is "okay."  We are sure to stay for more.
A cycle of sound abounds in the poetry of those whose
souls are astounded to have found no golden door
locks on the pearly gates!
Perhaps Heaven's spirits & angels abide by the music
that emanates from those souls lost in hell.  We dwell
on the subject often.  Too often.
1.  Charlie Brown & Baudelaire.
His presence is on the air we breathe; the music we see.
An aroma, delicious as delightful, permeates the room's
chamber, a sane person would stay sober, as the language
is bolder the further we go. I am a busy monster!
2.  Allyn Hagar.
Her aural presence, her spiritual nature, is of an aura
ethereal or perhaps ephemeral.  Today we may play
with the hearts of women & men tending heavenly
gardens of chrysanthemums & marigolds.
A bridge builder by trade, her aura is being made that
stretches over the ocean, pacific as it is also Atlantic.
3.  Santa Monica.
Elle est City of Angels, the home of heroes & heroines.
The aural presence is supported by an equally oral testimony.
A truth, not phony, but similarly pronounced & phonetic. 
As the aural nature of our hearing greets the aural beauty
of our Spiritual Life, an oral tradition is meeting up
with the universal strife of daily existence.  Rife  with lyrical
moments, the poetry of the modern world connects us
to the whirl of a Heaven & Hell perspective.  Terza rima
can Handel it!
As too can modern jazz!  The aural pleasure of an aura
reminds us of the silent dilemma of lovers & friends. 
In the end we too are rewarded as we can afford to seat
all at the thanksgiving table.  Amen.  Mother hen.  Hallelujah.
Aural preferences, heard & felt.  Something to talk about?
Okay, what the hell?  Aqua seafoam & ocean swell! 
Defending Herr Baudelaire
Protecting the air, the music
of Charlie Brown,
defending the air, everywhere!
Sunflowers too,
brilliant yellow, blue
& black.
A secret
who knew?
Buried in Vermont.
The presence
of a poet
who didn't know it, yet.
A mountain
yes us,
oui nous, not yet.