The Romance of the Evening

I remember the night I fell in love with the evening. I was driving on a mountain road, a few moments after dusk: The trees' shadows were merging with the background of the sky, the cool air was a whisper in my ear. I did not abandon myself uncontrollably, I did not lose sight of the road. Rather the evening surrounded me the way a footprint surrounds a foot, the way a star is surrounded by empty space. I lost the notion of preference: I did not care for darkness over light, I could not tell my left hand from my right. Later I drove through the forrest knocking down small trees; rabbits were caught frozen in my headlights, the car's engine gave off the smell of fear: fear released, fear repulsed, fear returning. I got out of the car in a small clearing and turned off the lights. The evening made no demands, I did not have to remove my clothes, there were no promises made or broken. I did not have to give up my lovers, nor did the idea of fidelity even occur to me: No matter how many times I left the evening it would always come back to me, by choice or otherwise.


-Ira Sadoff

Covenant

I you are happy, I will give you an apple,
if you are anxious, I will twist your arm,
and if you permit me, I will be glad to hold you
close to my heart forever and do you no harm.

If I am happy, will you give me an apple?
If I am anxious, you may twist my arm.
And if you would like to, I would like you to hold me
close to your heart forever and do me no harm.

This is a bargain, only two can make it.
This is a covenant offered with desperate calm,
it being uncertain that lovers can drive out demons
with the gift of an apple or the twist of an arm.

                                -Tennessee Williams

Once in the 40's

We were alone one night on a long
road in Montana. This was in winter, a big
night, far from the stars. We had hitched,
my wife and I, and left our ride at
a crossing to go on. Tired and cold -- but
brave -- we trudged along. This, we said,
was our life, watched over, allowed to go
where we wanted. We said we'd come back some time
when we got rich. We'd leave the others and find
a night like this, whatever we had to give,
and no matter how far, to be so happy again.

-William Stafford.

HAVING A COKE WITH YOU

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irun, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayone

or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Garcia in Barcelona

partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian

partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt

partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches

partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary

it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still

as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it

in the warm New York 4 O'clock light we are drifting back and forth

between each other like a tree breathing through its spectables

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint

you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look

at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world

except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it's in the Frick

which thank heavens you haven't gone to yet so we can go together the first time

and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of futurism

just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or

at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me

and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them

when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank

or for that matter Marion Marini when he didn't pick the rider as carefully

as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience

which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I'm telling you about it

-Frank O'Hara

When You Go

When you go,

if you go,

And I should want to die,

there's nothing I'd be saved by

more than the time

you fell asleep in my arms

in a trust so gentle

I let the darkening room

drink up the evening, till

rest, or the new rain

lightly roused you awake.

I asked if you heard the rain in your dream

and half dreaming still you only said, I love you.

-Edwin Morgan (RIP)

One Cigarette

No smoke without you, my fire

After you left,

your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray

and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey

I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal

of so much love. One cigarette

in the non-smoker's tray.

As the last spire

trembles up, a sudden draught

blows it winding into my face.

Is it smell, is it taste?

You are here again, and I am drunk on you tobacco lips.

Out with the light.

Let the smoke lie back in the dark.

Till I hear the very ash

sigh down among the flowers of brass

I'll breathe, and long past midnight, you last kiss.

-Edwin Morgan (RIP)

Old Song

I'm feeling ok still in some small way

I've come too far to just go away

I wish I could stay here some way.

So that what now comes wouldn't only be more

of what's to be lost. What's left would still leave more

to come if one didn't rush to get there.

What's still to say? Your eyes, your hair, your smile,

your body sweet as fresh air, your voice in the clear morning

after another night, another night, we lay together, sleeping?

If that has to go, it was never here.

If I know still you're here, then I'm here too

and love you, and love you.

-Robert Creeley