Archive for ‘Long poem’

October 2, 2024

blues and Dylan Thomas

by jhon baker
September 1, 2024

ark

by jhon baker
Painting by Micael Chadwick


I wanted to build an ark,
so I built an ark.
I wanted to sail across oceans,
so I sailed across oceans.


I sailed to darkness
but failed to die.
broken
in pain
a fine madness
with the world colored beautiful
and sky an unfailing blue.


I left the city.


left behind Clarke and Belmont homeless
polishing leather walking
boots.
I left being street lamps
sitting in corners
under flat light of despairation.
left the window washers
tattoo parlors
left the cafes where young boys,
old boys laugh easily with homosexual motive.


left traffic, redlight, abandoned buildings
art houses, dance studios, opium dens
unlit coffee joints, bright coffee chains.
huddled, dark under evening porticoes
seeking out soporific dope;
a prodigious blindness.


2.
drunk on red wine or whiskey;
memories illuminated or fabricated
in winter where crocuses have no bloom
and life under the crushing weight
of foreign language operas
arias
elegant gibberish.


and so in love
beyond years or measure
youth or less.


belletristic notions
left in black notebooks
filled with variations
of you
as subject or apparition
in white dress
silken veil
with shoes off.


the under currents of sex
and whispered echoes of joy
with pornographic limp.


a Spanish tango.


3.
it’s all faded jazz,
blue paintings.
innumerable waves lapping the hull.
bow pushing out, cutting
untraceable patterns, pathways
away from the city, suburban landscapes,
rural forgottens and flowered forget-me-nots.
a miasmic noise,
a constant playing, discombobulated
music on old vinyl.


vibrant, beatific –
and sky, cerulean,
wisps of sundrenched rain clouds,
formless platitudes,


scenes from childhood
filmed in dream sequence
a moment rewound, rewound
played forward, backward, inestimable.
sweet, sad trumpet, an instrument of my childhood,
sings effortlessly, mellifluously
Sketches from Spain
gentle sweep of the sails and calm seas
with the world colored beautiful
vibrant, beatific
and sky an unfailing blue.

June 15, 2024

Micael

by jhon baker

April 19, 2024

lost strophes found in drunken Moleskine

by jhon baker
the wife is worried - a little sentimental drivel in the
opening of the second movement

I am a sentry
for our collective heartbreak

I’ve been careful

I’ve not been this inebriated
in greater than a vicennium
and the last in forgotten bars of angels

it’s the
secrets, you know.

the
medications, you know.

two bottles, you know.

I held it together with white knuckle intensity
a white knuckle sobriety
a white knuckle stability

but my confidants know a different me
a stain on new growth flesh
and new brain synapses
new brain cerebrovascular incident
and fresh heartbreak
over new lines and forgotten strophes

and you,
this love to you - this damaged and broken 

purple prose to you
this endless sadness in invincible summer
to you —
whether you accept or withdraw
whether I’ve wounded myself
in your knowledge or presence -
trying to grip
a shattering narrative with elusive dominion
whether I’ve wounded you without knowledge
or not

but
broken hearts know no further atonement
- which is grace
the brokenhearted know the taste of iron
on their teeth and wine stained lips
- which is grace
today I know the relative smoothness of
1200 ml of whiskey
in glass after glass
and cubes of ice
melted away -
which is grace

you:
salt of the earth, hero of these poems
your are not ostentatious by any regard
you are not gauche
to you I apologize for the fragility of my nature
the unique patchwork of a sui generis
a blinding color discernment of this natural
world
and know our place bravely


now finally:
naming is a kind of violence
an unconscious nomenclature
used to strip wonder of its humanity
unadorned beauty
but

I don’t traffic in tragedy
broken chainsaws
or felled trees