Maureen Owen - "A Brass Choir . . . "

A Brass Choir Approaches the Burial Ground

or

"From the Arms of One Man Into The Arms of Another"


by Maureen Owen











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for Theodore
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 In view of the human condition, 
the only sustainable posture is one of humor." 
Pirandello
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          I walk into doors       to everyone's delight 
          I constantly step on the toes of those I happily kiss 
             I smash into strangers while shaking hands 
          I wrap my arm around the dark lamp-post    putting on 
          my coat in the rain
             I drop all the papers I'm holding
               I trip on the rug
          I slip on the waxed floor     on my way to the door 
          ruining a graceful good-bye     only the whippet
          understands me       only the parrot          and maybe
          the comet     who knows what it means 
          to be perfectly in orbit     and still crack up 
          just because something gets in your way    just because 
          something else   didn't know you were coming 
          forgot to move   or couldn't   and there you were
          spinning around each other for a moment        then
          flung out again    quite breathless and puzzled
          into that silent icy realm    between the outer edges 
          of the solar system    and the nearest stars 
          where it is never 10:30    or noisy city    or mid December 
          when    we see you O Kohoutek    whose head is really 
          in the clouds    huge ones of hydrogen atoms 
          containing the mysterious source molecule
          I have the same problem    I can't really see where I'm 
          going either    and yet a tremendous force is shooting 
          me forward at terrifying speed. 
          sequins    and opals taunt the regular dark 
          radiation pressure buckles the tail away from the sun 
          into telescopes    and notebooks    Schmidt camera    and 
          scientific data    a gorgeous answer 
          some think comets the last change    to find primordial material 
          to know who    or what    peered up from the fire and grunted 
          last time   you came by        10,000 years   or so    ago 
          nameless    & nonchalant
          with your secret of inner economy              & longevity
          we are desperately roaming the streets for such things!
          and some    bored by it all
                   like the man on my bed
          languishing    telling me    everything bores him
                 Get a telescope      I want to tell him       I just want
          to scream     Get a telescope!





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LOVE SONG FOR T. 
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          The moss makes soft green bumps along the shore 
          like when I had hives on my butt 
          soft pink slightly raised circles 
          and the doctor said      "Looks like an allergy, 
          go home and sit down and try to think of all 
          the new things that have come into your life
          in the last few days,    you're probably allergic
          to one of them"     and it was the day after the
          first afternoon I had made love with you 
          & I thought       Oh No!








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WHO NEEDS IT 
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          the skaters dodge   the way   you lie across the ice
             Down again!     Most friends will dodge you too
          noting only the color of your sweater		the
          amazing sheen of your frozen gloves	as they
          glide past     netting blue & silver light.
          it is equivalent to the feeling	   things aren't
          going to go the way you planned.     He has handed 
          you a slip of paper    on which    nothing is written
          yet it says                   "At a certain age
          you will toss your morals to the wind" 
          Oh Daphne
                 who refused love from the start
          I too want to be done with the folly of beginning!  
          We clapped and clapped when the terrible singer had finished 
          so relieved   it was over   we rose to our feet and descended 
          Only those trying to impress their escorts were smiling.  
          There are others with such irreversible clarity     that 
          lying beside you at night     they will simply say -- 
          Please take your elbow out of my eye --   or will remain 
          full length on your bed watching you          Rebuff 
          to answer anything
                               Sobriety that chokes the heart!  
          One would have better luck speaking to a landscape. 
          because of this     my life has been
          The Soggy Pillow Testimony.
          When Hemingway shouted up      "What am I going to do?  I 
          have no typewriter!"
          Dorothy Parker leaned over the rail of the Rotterdam 
          and threw down the brand new portable she had bought 
          to use on the voyage.       Had it been me
          I would have shouted back      "Sell some of your fishing tackle! 
          ..... Ernest"
          I can get dressed by myself
          I know which way is North
          Even without Nietzsche, Milton, or Wittgenstein
          I know enough to ask    Where is the gate    to paradise?
          I can walk
          I can answer
          I can bend
          with the one    who ties his sneakers    & says
                            "I'm leaving this circus"







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HOW TO GET BY 
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          I often wonder
          just to get your attention
          I am usually indifferent to what I tell you, 
          scarcely endangered by hysteria 
          I remain on the coast
          & never go out further than where I can stand up.  
          The lazy valley is destroyed every afternoon 
          promptly at 4
          after that we have tea
          & go to the volcano at 6.
          Myself, I enjoy seeing deserts being made 
          & I try to be there at 8 every Tuesday.  
          Children seem to like watching the mountains 
          forming
          and are often dazzled as we trace a river 
          to its first raindrop.
          I remember having to diagram a rainbow in 
          the sixth grade   --   it left me limp for hours.
          Also I received particularly high marks 
          during the term on thunderstorms 
          (& here is where the girls excel -- 
          the boys being better at dissecting clouds).  
          But, looking back, it's the words of a bent
          hooded old matron that I've come to depend 
          most upon
          "My dear," she rasped, resting her shoulder
          on the wall of the cave where we were observing 
          the development of stalactites, "My dear, sweet 
          almond oil, oil of rosemary, & two drams of 
          cocoa oil massaged gently into the underarms 
          & insteps will carry you through 
          almost
          any situation."



          


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NEMESIS 
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          A momentary fragment of a minute occasion 
          as you cut the cards     The Queen of Swords 
          I remembered, what it was that had inspired me 
          the missing figure in a sudden photograph 
          a space
          whose body hadn't caught up with it yet 
          a consequence of postures preceding dynamism
          
          You zip your pants     tuck in your shirt 
          & buckle your belt
          You are born & ready to go!
          Out of the bathtub & into the night 
          a little silhouette of pathos
          You're out on the street with a maniac 
          refusing to listen to me & yet
          I pause at your uncanny ability to adjust 
          in the face of tumultuous error 
          to leave & then come back like that  -- 
          to be so at home in the antecedent.
          






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FANTASY 28  
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          A complicated network of brackets by the balustrade 
          of the verandah      blue & white porcelain full of 
          magnificent cherry branches,    their blossoms overflowing 
          to the very foot of the railing.     Pillows of laburnum, 
          golden yellow.    Patterns of another sort hung loosely 
          over the shoulders of an elaborate canopy 
          the many-colored interior    inlaid with mirrors and
          mother-of-pearl             under the window rim echoes of
          a cataract muffled by clouds    low soughing of pines
          my feet on the soft straw matting        I bring you
          the juice   of grated radish leaves      in a kaolin cup
          with the colorless glaze of the T'ang  lustrous as jade
          on a tiny almond tray      with opal fingers    you lift
          and sip            "Exquisite!"   you pronounce 
          but just as I look up      I realize!    you're not satisfied.








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          Something happened this weekend	   that broke my heart
          I'm not even sure what it was   but	I've decided
          to give all the moss I brought home	away
          for Christmas presents     really it's beautiful     & 
          I don't want it around    What has changed?    very little . . . 
          the flight of stars & bio luminescence are    visible 
          from 2nd ave       jackhammers attend us as we 
          browse through all the markets      sizable explosions 
          puff steel netting into knee-high air
          Oh Construction    so perfect &     mysterious
          & beyond	low hills outside the city	Should I
          quote you that it is dirty    noisy    crowded	& say
          I love it!	What would you think if by the misty
          reservoir you found me lacking in presence    dissatisfied 
          with solitude
          

                             To be alive   is to be a Great Noise!
          The esplanade lined with palm trees   in a hurricane!
          Remarkable beads of sweat    & shoes!   that take us    where
          we want to go! 	  Even on sidewalks it is Fall or Winter
          Spring or Summer     & always with enthusiasm!







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          Go ahead   Spit the mushrooms     I cooked so perfectly 
          back into your plate      mumbling something about
            sand               See if I care!         Outside that door 
          an entire segment of history is waiting to treasure me  
          I'm fated to be rich and spoiled             Pampered by millions!
          Wafting towards breakfast   under globs of crystal    and
          gold leaf      my trains of snowy chiffon and dotted swiss 
          bounce off the marble columns                 breathless  
          and outrageous	even in the rain
                 even with my satin slippers soaked!
          Through halls so oceanic   the Arabic and Persian rugs
          form archipelagos
                          against the walnut knobs of the velveteen
          loveseat          against wicker settee 
          & the drawing room chair with the great swollen rose 
          painted on cretonne

                                Crush these flowers for my sunken bath!
                                               and listen
                             you can hear
          colossal foamy gardens squeezing up
          between the toes of the serpentine goddesses
          
          The all-night daricers still reflected in the pool
          onlookers swathed in discarded fruit rinds
          curtains drifting out over the goldfish .............
          
          One flitting afternoon you might stand          
          cooking your own mushrooms	  realizing     "What a blunder!"
          to have lost her   to the pearls	and the polo ponies'
          
          Pin stripes and pastels      linen and lavender silk 
                                      O Pardon my Snobbery!
                                                  my Rapture
                                                     my weeping!     into the
                                            imported folds of this pink shirt 
          while palominos gallup through sprinklers on private grass 
          & under gaudy yachts      white birds have surfaced  like these 
          Damned mushrooms     on the sea!



          


          
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"Must I be born with so little art
as to love the one who would break my heart"
Buffy Sainte-Marie  



LAMENT OF THE WOMEN  
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          Yes!   I am your humble servant    my knees bleed!
          Always at pledge    bowed before you
          I throw my whole life to the dogs!
          Strew rugs of balm and lavender under your feet 
          Here!  Take these hands         these eyes!  
          I will be the end of perfection for you 
          the last sentence      the answer to everything!  
          Maintaining the perfect order     the valuable beauty 
          long after my strength has failed me
                                           I will begin anew 
          In one afternoon I will be   10 women    No twenty!  
          My forehead damp      my arms feverish to finish in time 
          these tortuous accomplishments promptly devoured 
          this eternal reconstruction.    All for you my exhaustion! 
          the driven spirit    parched & staggering 
          who has oiled the oaken floors    there to sink at last
          Your footstool!              your simple handmaiden
          in the blazing rays of these polished lamps 
          the effect     like a song     in color!
          





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HONESTY 
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          Honesty is all right for men, but I don't 
          think it does a woman any good at all. 
          










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FANTASY 22 
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          O to be young & neglected!    Left alone for long
          unguarded hours in the ruined palace.  The delicious 
          yield of the marvelous rugs and tapestries!    To roll 
          with wild abandon     down flights of smooth cool marble 
          stairs     & get up    bruised & tortured by love! 
          exhausted in the tangled garden            overgrown
          exotic shrubbery stinging your thighs & shoulders.
          To leap   into icy waters of bronze fountains   & gasp 
          for breath.   Here are diamonds that shatter on your hair. 
          & the thick wings of the peacocks.    Loose trousers
          of the night, dark purple that billow & fold with a 
          shudder.    I sat beside you on the bed    my senses
          reeling.   Forehead pressed through torn silver lame 
          to lean on a clear cold window    The palace hounds
          withdraw along velvet corridors    & now to follow them!
          To fling from balconies    into enchanted 
                                                rosewood drawing rooms
          To swoon! 	To drop    upon mauve servants in
          immaculate dress.    To slide your ear along Persian
          silk divan      & insist on silence!     O to be young  &
          neglected    Left alone for long unguarded hours
          in the ruined palace!





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OVERLAPPING CULTURES 
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          Yesterday I sewed your kimono
          & today I sewed your burnoose
          Last week the goose-down hunting jacket --
          What country am I in anyway?






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          A magazine in the face 
          well, it's more than a puff of smoke
          flashy as the splender solis on
          those little pearly treetrunks that dance
          around your tongue        
          I'd like to go up to the mountain with you sometime 
          talk awhile then fall behind & change my shape       Grey
          & rangy as my coyote sisters
          I know you'd totally freak-out
          as I stalked you up the mountain
          drooling hunger & howling at the fleshcolored sun
          Ah Ha!   You'd really be moving then    slipping &
          sliding up the sheer cliffs
          grasping at crumbly rocks, scurrying on        
          cut palms & torn pantknees                     Then
          I'd circle round    rush on ahead 
          change my shape back & greet you 
          as you came crawling over the glass-sharp cliff 
          share my lunch with you    give you some wine
          maybe talk about old times	maybe I'd
          even mention this evening when	       you threw
          a magazine in my face
          	or maybe I wouldn't
          just stare into the sun & catch
          the glint of steel in my eye	 casting it down
          in front of us    on the path	  feel it burst
          under our boots     with the inconsistency
                                    of granite plans.
          



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          The night you threw the I Ching
          across the room    I thought
          this is it         He's snapped.








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"i blew my way to the top" 
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          Her fingers expert the air 
          anomalous memories
          when she doesn't have the things her lover 
          loves anymore. 
          Clothes through the open grating of the window 
          Hard knuckles on the floor 
          characterized by outlines without substance 
          a subtle difference on a big threshold.






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          The storm 
          I cross the room in a hurry to touch you. 
          










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L ON THE TRAIL  
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          SPEED!

          big toes and ankles 
          go up red oak saplings 
          bend down tie tops together

          "We'll sleep on top," you said excitedly,
          pointing way up.

          "Indians had to find out what
          was edible by tasting a little piece 
          of different things they came across 
          in the woods. We'll do the same!" you said, 
          your mouth full of leaves & grass.

          squatting         
          pits & bubbles of black earth
          around your toes
          WHACK rocks together
          sparks flicker in dry leaves

          sun going down on your back, 
          a weightless atmosphere above the moon 
          drops cosmic blackness filled with 
          minute spear points of light.

          Later in front of the fire 
          mentioning a stomachache 
          hoping you hadn't eaten too many
          too juicy
          different kinds of vegetation.






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SYMMETRY 
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          Going to bed     2 AM
          world view completely shattered 
          tie-dyed a tee-shirt for my man 
          
          2 circles on the front 
          3 circles on the back 
          that's one circle too many, he said. 
          






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UP IN THE AIR  
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          Look through these binoculars 
          & you will see
          that the children have painted tiny gardens 
          on the end of each lens 
          & that through this washy greenery 
          Antonin Artaud runs screaming
          "Motorhead!              Motorhead!
          flinging out from his brow
                         droplets of mercury
          little balls like the disconnected bellies of
          fat dwarfs
                 forming hexagrams at his feet.  
          The Great Northern Elk & the Caribou 
          obscured slightly by the lush outcroppings 
          are entranced by Artaud 
          he deciphers the lines for them 
          they graze and nod from time to time

                 I am only mentioning this to remind you
                 how it is.
          You will only find wonder in the first encounter 
          after that a vast indifference & then 
          finally
          friendship
          But what a hoax!
          A smile circling the bone your teeth are busy on.
          Standing in the doorway dressed for skiing
          Applying these moments to your life.





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          The Christmas tree fell on you 
          while you were sleeping
          you were lovely 
          your pale face amid the green fragrant branches. 







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"WANTING YOU" 
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          While you were going   up the hill   in the 
          stunning snow    the dazzling crystals that 
          floated & fell      in the streetlights
          Snug inside your black 1930s coat,    images
          of your     "Goodbye     Goodbye      rehearsed vivaciously 
          in my mind     a sudden cynosure where my attention
          knelt in rapt admiration     So made with love!
          So frantic with desire!	Again and again I watch
          you turn before me	That slightly inclining
          three-quarter turn   Your gloved hand poised 
          the overwhelming irresponsible joy of your voice 
          as it stepped into the gay Russian Troika     the
          stamping    steaming horses!    the gold & blue banners!
          My heart left me then    tumbling & splashing up 
          the hill     the snow melting where it touched

          Waking up alone      I explode from the bed 
          nervous & shaking     in this steamy room 
          It is these moments that have led me here 
          this need I have to sleep beside you 
          that has caused all the trouble in my life.




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LET'S TAKE IT HARD 
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          It would be more meaningful 
          if we met by mistake 
          chaos & grit on the whirling roads 
          in the midst of artillery    & refugees 
          After 10 long years of separation 
          than for me to be living 
          in a little blue-tiled villa 
          in Greece or Naples 
          & you come in under the honeysuckle arbor 
          in the middle of summer 
          & sit down     & have some wine.
          




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          When you're down and under and crushed and shattered 
          smashed and trodden and beaten, bamboozled, kicked and 
          destroyed   lost out, gone mad, fell back, shot up,
          done in, wiped out    When your heart is broken      and 
          your nose is running, your days are numbered, your lot 
          is cast, you're wasted, worried, choked up and ruined 
          left out, disinherited, sweating, frustrated, alone and 
          demolished, hopeless, despairing, depressed and insane 
          you're lousy    you know it    you wish you could change 
          Your coat's ripped, your nose is crooked, your brain is 
          mush, your hands are cursed, your life is worthless 
          and you're uncomfortable a hunchback, a sucker,
          a recluse, a frog	When you know you can't make it
          You're hideous, helpless, pusillanimous, squirrelly and
          dumb
                                     just bear in mind 
                               that 9/10's of everything 
                                         is posture


                                        Stand Up!





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FED UP! 
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          Call the planes    the schedules    the air fare 
          I'm leaving!    I'm going    this is it    I'm through 
          finished    Call the trains      the taxies 
          I'm going Greyhound    I'll hitch part way 
          It's the last straw    I'll walk    jump a freight 
          take a tugboat    join a yachting party    catch 
          a ride      I've really had it!    Few people have 
          lived to be as through as I am!    I'm not staying 
          here another minute!     I'm packing right now 
          So Long!    you're going to miss me    Where's my 
          suitcase       where's my boot 
          where's the keys      where's the door




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ABAY-O 
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          The little island sinks in your face 
          How remarkable 
          too few imagine the impossible 
          & yet we are here!
          See he attacks the plants with the scissors.  
          White triangles blaze in your eyes, 
          spooky and informative as cologne.
          The trees part for the bus,
          the bus becomes a part of the trees, 
          you are parting from me,
          I can no longer see you.






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TRAVELING
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          I left it.
          That was my burst of exuberance for the 
          entire stay.
          The letters that followed were dug up 
          out of a box in the attic 
          events had gone by obvious to no one
                                 Subtle mechanisms
          slick as otters under water 
                                        a man
          taking you out of joy   &
                                     into your clothes 
             for the sake of it 
          a last resort
          when you run out of sexuality on the open road.
          
          Random productions begin sticking to every bush
          & passing truck
                           we became the universe's reaction
                           to Itself.
          annoyed
                          hassled
                        How awful!
                           in terms of tragic endearment 
                we were accustomed to the original 
          & now this
                    these repetitious cities 
                     at the peak of attention 
                                 modern miracles 
                     at ease with time.
          
          




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FANTASY 29 
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          I see myself with you and fantasize the heroine. 
          You never love me but you are awed and hypnotized
          by my power over events and the surrounding
          environment.








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FANTASY 19 
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          Transfigured now      my torso darkens below the
          violet bandana      rain drops from silver ear-hoops
          from tattooed shoulders    to the clammy steaming 
          deck of the galleon.   Between my moody fingers 
          the latticed sea roils. On the way to the Arabic coast 
          wearing nothing, but my jeans
                                        Oh the native sons & daughters
          they will fall on their faces along the beaches!
          My teeth flashing in the glint of the Mediterranean
          on my knife.      I am barely smiling.              
          My high-pitched laugh pierces    the little swells of foam
          the prow of the brave ship I took from the Spaniards
          dips into the water    the crew I found three days ago
          floating on a rotting wooden raft    plots to murder me
          spittle & salt sparkle in their soggy mustaches
          bad magic in their blades              they huddle under
          the poop deck       massive arms & necks
          too terrified to move.        I don't even turn around





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for Helen Adam
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          The world

                      goes by 

              in orgasm,

                       Churning
                                 blue
                                    with energy

          clouds froth out

                           glitter

                                   milky
                                         in the sunlight
          I walk toward the mailbox
          The road to the east is empty

          to the west
               4 black crows hassle a dead rabbit


                              Freaky cries
                                       in the still air

                                    Bran is back.







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          Yang Chu said: "You may do good without 
          thinking about fame, but fame will come 
          to you nevertheless.  You may have fame 
          without aiming at pelf, but pelf is sure 
          to follow in its wake.  You may be rich 
          without wishing to provoke emulation 
          and strife, yet emulation and strife will 
          certainly result.  Hence, the superior person 
          is very cautious about doing good."







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MOVIES 
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          The hero was
          cowardly
          pathetic
          sniveling
          base
          immoral
          apolitical
          greasy    &
          self-deluded
          

                 I identified with him totally.





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for Ted



BIRTHDAY KISSES 
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          After the mass of brilliant blossoms     & the night 
          I have come by the granite basin    under the fountains 
          over a lot of steps
          kicking wattle nuts          along the flawless tiles
          OH even this wild Northern   with its shifting whites 
          and lighter greys   that drift across the square
          is full of kisses for you	& thoughts of kisses
          & maneuvers & plans of kisses	Baths of kisses!
          Birthday kisses!
                                    wild about kisses
          I throw myself upon you    clasping your waist 
          excessive heat distorting the snow around us 
          melting the crystals on your thick boyish lashes     just 
          like a novel whose frenzied excitement sends us 
          into cataleptic trance,      I would try anything 
          I could think of   to land in your arms       Without 
          the slightest difficulty    beside myself with joy 
          somersaulting out of bed like an athlete 
          to fall on my face again      & swear eternal love!
          





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THANK YOU, AMERICA 
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          And       Oh Wheaton!
                                 for your shirtless hot youths!
              intoxicating chests buffeted by the breeze 
          in the rolled-up sleeves of their faded levis 
              terrific muscles under their open shirts 
          i could smother in caresses    a posture 
          just between the cab of Dodge pick-up    and 
          the gravel drive
          standing on the springboard of a red grain truck 
          tan-armed hand on the rolled-down window rim 
          I weep on the dashboard    kissing those locks of hair 
          Hugging the necks of that wild shyness
          Where is the applause of a crowd of enthusiasts 
          for a jaunty torso    barely inclining forward
          sliding from the seat	I press to my eyes the image
          OH Moocher of my peace	  A body slightly in the air
          halfway to the ground
          all bravura and boldness    before the grain elevators
          Armfuls of sky!    Heavy dark boots and light tousled hair
          
                         Such beauty rips me limb from limb!
          
               I'm not a crazed sex maniac               it's anatomy 
          these supple joints   the sporting step    that takes them
          dazzling blond hair brushing their shoulders
          blue eyes dashing forward               
                bounding up the feverish drowsy streets of 
                Wheaton, Minn. pop. 2,209       Right past me
             sitting here     the hottest blow job in town!
          
          





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             On the morning of the first night
          I woke up before you
          when you woke up we were looking at each other 
          you didn't say I love you and 
          neither did I
          then I went into the kitchen
          the magic mushrooms were like red & yellow 
          cushions
          I boiled an egg and brought it to you 
          the room was very round
          you said this is the most perfect hard-boiled egg
          I've ever eaten
          I said
          I'm a terrific cook!




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          A man is always saying to me    "Get out of my light"
          or    "Will you sit down"             Similar
          to those whitish flowers      tinged with faintest yellow,
          pink, or greenish      I am seldom where others expect me to be
          "Come to bed," he demanded	"What are you doing?"
          I was on the toilet	      madly making plans
          to impress him.	                     Arriving
          at the gallery   4 days after the show had closed
          I sauntered   nonchalant      among the blank walls
          and then quickly took the elevator down     "You Idiot!"
          I said to myself	when I reached the street
          This is what Nijinsky meant when he wrote      "the maids
          have become stupid"	as though some part of himself
          had failed him	by their actions.
          The tires slid on the ice    I drove continually in wrong lanes.
          Lost in wonder   and amazement     I so often forget 
          The wheels are in my hands!    And we go driving over bumps 
          and curbs    astonished by the purple glaze on the snow.  
          Almost at the top of the nearly perpendicular hill 
          halos of yellow broke over the jeep      "O The Moon"      I 
          shouted   pointing   stopping in second gear     having to shift 
          to first   and rolling almost to the bottom   before starting
          back up. 	Ruth St. Denis created EGYPTA
          after receiving inspiration from a cigarette poster
          in a drug store. 	Did she stare open-mouthed    drooling?
          or spill her soda	 or bump into customers?
          Did the man she loved have to say "Turn here!    Turn here!"
          or "You're grinding the clutch!"      or "You've left the 
          lights on ... again ......."







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THE CONFESSION 
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          Which shall I tell you first
          that I finally saw a Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker
          drumming on adjacent willows             or that
          I ripped the top of the jeep
          backing out of the garage       And don't
          say anything about it being the "Classic" 
          little woman wrecks new car 
          just after my being told I was an insurance 
          risk     the garage is too low in the first place 
          & I'm just learning to drive a stick shift anyway 
          and if a man does something like that    it's just 
          an accident    but if a woman does 
          it's because she's a woman     Since it's our car 
          the roof can be my half now and don't forgive me!  
          I don't want your forgiveness!
          



________________________________________________________________________________

the great Yu of the Shia Dynasty before 
he became emperor he was the minister in 
charge of flood control .......
________________________________________________________________________________


          Be careful not to say too quickly     "He's putty in my hands" 
          or    you may appear in midnight downpour    digging a trench
          in frozen ground     half an acre of melting snow around your
          ankles	& Tired    of being that Scorched Romantic figure
          smoldering in drowned weather    of ruined exhausted charm
          & feverish    sick of the soppy rayon of the theme! 
          a story so complicated it can only be told in 83 episodes 
          Once I was on the phone    and then face to face 
          both equally disastrous    he did not even have the decency 
          to stamp his foot    when he said    "You sat on your ass." 
          it was like finding yourself still reading a story 
          you could tell from the first page    wasn't going to be
          worth it.             He actually said "You have no rights
          Moral Law alone makes you my prisoner 
                                 Your Karma will get you.... "
                 a dangerous pause        "think about it"
          
          No! 	I refuse to be the one responsible for everything
                      the Japanese Plum blossoms in severe cold
                      and through all this my mission remains clear
          
                                 I am the Tooth Fairy!
               embodying that accepted logic     that will give me magic powr
                   to trade silver for enamel    and still come out ahead
          
          "What an excellent thing it is," Confucius said,
          "to be able to find a source of consolation in yourself!"
          





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________________________________________________________________________________          


          Because of the uneven distribution of wealth
          I am a person who makes mistakes
          A lack of money causes insecurity
          Insecurity causes indecision      and it is
          Indecision that makes me awkward    &    clumsy
          
                    While I identified the flower 
          as the Late Purple Aster                We
          ran out of gas ................





________________________________________________________________________________

"Where there's writing, there's hope" She
once told me crossing a street
________________________________________________________________________________


          Just because the sea is calm    doesn't mean that
          I can drop you	at the airport   with a cheerful kiss
          calling out     "See you in five days"
                                                       Thanks to you
          I now can tell   the song sparrow    the white throat      and the
          chipping sparrow   apart         & be happy    just to
          crouch    with one foot   in the chilly swamp       a
          shivering arabesque   in darker night        folded
          fingers poised on flashlight switches       Desiring
          only   a view of some frog's head	as it
          emerges from oozing tufts	Singing the song
          that brought us here
          	                   toot!     toot!
          three dozen throats   we can't see           a chorus
          of tin whistles  as invisible     as hocus pocus & 
          the famous Silver Sign the constellations hold
                  All Is Not Lost!          it reads
          Does Nature really know something we don't?
          In Japan there is a mountain    named Monkey Mountain
          but there are no monkeys on it          long ago
          there were thousands       however, civilization advanced
          and the monkeys fled    Now tourists read the placard 
          Monkey Mountain     & stand    squinting into the trees 
          gesturing       without the slightest reservation.........
          	With him my love just flew out the window	he didn't
          	bother to look up as it went by.         Desperation! 
          that made me too serious for my own good.      Even the Jesuit 
          grinned, "You get 20, 25 priests holding confession	it
          just goes like nothing."
            	 Crazy icy night, that goes by talking to itself
                    "You Bum!    You leave us high and dry    and call that
          information!"          Once I had nothing      now so much is
          at stake     my teeth are chattering     & I had wanted to
          grow up calm and lyrical       like the sea
          on our way to the airport
          
                        O Sunday water in this big dish!






________________________________________________________________________________

"She's a real tough cookie" -- Susan Howe 
________________________________________________________________________________


     "He has a stick up his ass"    You Put it so well!     Overwhelmed 
     by his charm, arrogance, eloquent taste, and brilliance    I had 
     not recognized the rigid back    the myopic courtesy.  At the opening 
     ignoring the fact that I was holding a drink in my hand    he 
     continued to shake it    sloshing wine all over ourselves    and the 
     small crowd that was gathering.                     A dizzy vapor 
     shifts across the Spartina Patens    sulphur-colored grasses hide 
     the tidal flats    the gull shakes his head to get rid of the brine 
     and what I do is functional too!
                           I am no lonesome decoration on the shore 
     noticed only in the absence of others!     A friend who was so tough 
     she simply said of the poor old professor in the ballet    "He shoulda 
     got one while he was young"    That same girl seated    balanced 
     on a thin rail    holds over her head a leafy branch from one of the 
     shade trees    to ward off the advancing rain.  She is tilted slightly 
     backward
     as though extending a hand to fend off blows of heavenly retribution.  
     Another   darker woman   crouches on 31st and Broadway   modestly taking 
     a sponge bath    while early morning crowds pour by.    Dipping a rag 
     into a battered tomato tin filled with water    she discreetly lifts the green 
     frock away from her body with one hand    and washes with the 
     other
     "We must not weep so that we may not be comforted" wrote Simone Weil 
     --There are ways of making the worst suffering bearable --    Absent 
     one leg Sarah Bernhardt went on acting.  P.T. Barnum offered her 
     $10,000 for the amputated limb     and the right to exhibit it.
          





________________________________________________________________________________

for Orhan 
     Veli 
    Kanik
________________________________________________________________________________


          You said that you'd come up 
          and bring the Vail Tails    & 
          the Algae Eater      the tank
          & all the stones and shells
          some sand      You'd bring the
          bike	and cowboy hat.......
          But the cat you said had 
          fallen in love
          and you didn't want to separate them




________________________________________________________________________________

a dreary poem 
________________________________________________________________________________


          The day was made bearable 
          to look at by the sun 
          which floated over everything 
          the murky    distant air 
          the blurry separate ports with
          their chipped & peeling boats ....

                 I have finally learned how
                 to kiss someone good-bye









________________________________________________________________________________

come kiss me on the neck and nose
and in the eye and hand
Don't call me when the weather blows
to tell me you've been canned. 

for r and m and s
________________________________________________________________________________


          Don't crack up    Go koo koo    off the rocks
          get soaked     Don't loose your marbles      Twitch
          your tea     Be harried    License revoked.   Don't
          hold your breath    Lose precious sleep.    Snap 
          your cap    Pop your buttons    Blow a fuse    Short out!  
          Don't go under    Freak off the scene    Drown your hopes 
          & Pout    Don't let this old world get you down 
          and others get your goat    Don't sink your ship 
          Snap your cookie      Up a tree    Not wrapped too tight 
          they'll say.   Don't come unglued    Be in a stew
          Let a screw    come undone	Get sapped.   Don't go turkey
          Bees in your bonnet   Cook your goose      Have bats
          in your belfry    & worse    Don't go out of your gourd
          Loose your cool	Let it throw you     Be bowled over
          Come unstrung      Don't go batty    End up dotty
          weeping doorsteps	midnight phone calls Friends who
          wish you'd sit up straight!






________________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________________


                            O Alkaline sap of the Ash
          gone blue in autumn              purple in tone
          Reddest Sweetgum    Sumac and dogwood     Oak & 
          Poplar Aplomb in birch and Scarlet.     Tulip tree 
          & Willow bright yellow    Beech    Mahogany    & Prune Vermilion 
          O Racy Sassafras     Redbud    Blueberry in flame with Rose 
          & Orange
          Bounce off these windshields     as we go 
          laying rubber past old high schools Yelling "Dactyls!  
          Sestina Iambic Pentameter!"    at the top of our lungs 
               Crashing through drifts of Ginko leaves
          There are times when you must throw yourself overboard 
          in order to survive
          
                          the salty tourmaline moon and the stars 
                      they are lovely and cannot be entered by reason 
                      ... or..rondel ...........
          


________________________________________________________________________________

YELLOW YO-YO'S 
________________________________________________________________________________


          For years I was an outlaw
          Wanted by the law in Frisco
          married to one man    living with another 
          children it seemed    all over the place 
          then I went straight
          Caesar & Brutes
          Anthony & Cleopatra
          Abbott & Costello
          Lewis & Clark
          Damon & Pythias
          Burns & Allen
                    You & Me, Kid 
                 my angel in the morning 
                 I can hardly see for the golden 
                 feathers all over the bed








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________________________________________________________________________________








          Standing in the evening
                      I heard a horse Snort

          it was the sea . .
                          the tide coming in . . . . . . .










________________________________________________________________________________






Copyright 1977 by Maureen Owen.

First published in Big Deal 5 edited by Barbara Baracks. Long out of print, it is presented here complete.

Light and Dust @ Grist Mobile Anthology of Poetry.


Return to Light and Dust Poets.