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Poems By Poet Warren Falcon  7/24/2014 5:59:49 PM
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Warren Falcon   Best Poems From
  WARREN FALCON (04/23/52 - xxxx)
 
 
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  149.     

O See My Little Red Shoes, Bright Bright, O Clap Your Hands For Me - What I Once Became And Now Still Am

for Beti

...copperhead* strikes the
chest, venom close to the
heart, ill effects in a country
ditch in the arms of a young
man whose last name is the
Spanish moon, straw beneath
me a place to die, Moon's
face in daylight, oddly
detailed, clear, a smile I
know to be a last horizon...

...the piano then, grandmother's
arthritic fingers, chipped keys,
a boy once in thrall of the moon
and an old hymn, familiar strings
out of tune...

...seriously ill, Medellin**,
a month there in blue parks
reading Lorca, and a Colombian
poet whose statue I daily saw
when still in serpent thrall
I earlier drift in and out,
Cartagena***, not a statue
of a man but a pig, and script
of a poet's lullaby in bronze,
a pig begging of humans
clapping hands, his bright
red shoes pleading for a lovely
girl with whom he may dance...

...sad fetching fountain,
evoked Medellin, enchanted
now-feverish fountain far
from serpent and sea, Little
Muneca**** at noon daily
comes to the bench, from
black pumice of Purace*****,
where I sit and write -

'O please buy my cherries,
dark rubies, sweet...tell
me the poem again, kind sir,
the poem about the little
pig again, the shoes red red,
the need to dance the precice
feminine tred, the far graceful
Gulf of pacing rhymes where
dapper terns chase, puffing
chests then gayly dip their
beaks to kiss the spume,
gallant caballeros, pale
green brine burst into shine...'

...one more time, the last,
my departure, once more the
tilted head, poem-spilling
to one small ear to hear the
distant unvisited sea, to
royally bow, smiling at now
outworn elegance, manners a
century too late, not quaint
(to the contrary) ,

'Wait, ' she says,


'Not goodbye. Never.


I dance with you forever, little pig.

I polish your metal shoes of red leather,

tiny espejos - mirrors - for toes,

vincapervinca - periwinkles - on

the heals to tap.


Always you are here on the black

pumice bench to buy and eat my

cherries sweet, dark and ruby red.


You are always, man pale as the moon,

Sir Gringo, - giggles, winks, crosses

her little fingers behind her skirt -

Senor Mono Con Ojos Verde Que Siempre
Estan Llorando...

Mr. Monkey With Green Eyes
That Are Always Crying...'




*copperhead, a poisonous snake found in the USA

**Medellin, a city in Colombia, South America

***Cartagena, a coastal city in Colombia, South America

****Muneca/Munequita, 'Doll/Little Doll' in Spanish

*****Purace, an active volcano in Colombia, South America
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  150.     

Observing Early Autumn Snow From An Upstairs Window

white feather boa

between limb crotches

winks through leaves


gold ginkgo glitter

over pedestrians below


a sudden flush of heat,

of love, and they don't

know why


isn't love always above us?
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  151.     

October Night of Divas, East Tenth Street, New York City

for Brandon


A night of divas

stretched out
in the dark on
slow sofa fade

look out window
city lights

some fly one
frame to another

dark space square
between what is seen
then seen again

scratching belly, head, think -

Whatever became of Majestic,
his suicidal crocuses?

When did I marry Lonely?

can't recall

but fell kid-hard

backyard empty clothesline

silk slip one pin down

dip shyly in brick shadows

pornographic breezes.


I sing to knees now...


Beyond Manhattan Bridge

sudden heat lightening

a good night with cool rain

old vinyl Nyro**


needle scratches


done with song



<<<<<>>>>

**Laura Nyro, October 18,1947 - April 8,1997
Singer/songwriter in the 1960's until her untimely
death by cancer. Copy and paste this link to
listen to the song I was listening to which inspired
the above poem:

http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=Q2PeqqNi9bA
 
Warren Falcon
   
 

   
   
 

  152.     

Of Asterisk, Lovely Flower

*

Imagine
this asterisk
which contains an aster
a rose transforming yet again
because it can
because he
Lorca
*
has willed it obediently into being
*
letter
by letter,
petal by petal
bee kissed by brazen
bees a clutch of stamens
assassin's ink
flowering

*
 
Warren Falcon
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Warren Falcon