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The Collected Works of February....Part III
by Bill Noble
(03/28/07)
The last third of the twenty-eight daily poems I wrote for Desiree in February. No. 22 refers to a lovely naked picture, taken at the foot of a lacy waterfall in the hills back of the tiny, roadless town of Yelapa in Jalisco, Mexico with the raucous conversations of macaws ringing from the cliffs around us. No. 27 came as an epiphany on a walk over the green, green spring-time hills above our home in Marin County.
19.
Dream Team?
Dream team? Really?
All touchy and feely?
Hugging and kissing
stead a' just wishing?
An evening ecstatical,
hot and pneumatical,
breasts by the dozens,
'n all kissing cousins.
My hope is aborning
I'll last the night long,
till early next morning
she'll rescue my dong.
A jewel! A treasure,
a gift from my lover
to harvest at leisure.
(I pray I'll recover.)
20.
You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers.
You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions.
-- Naguib Mahfouz
What do you want right this minute?
What do you want for our day?
If you could want anything at all
for our next five years, what would it be?
If you could want anything at all.
21.
If, in spring, cherry blossoms did not fall,
there would be opportunity for joy.
--13th Century Japanese song
gold and crimson
a cherry's burst
between our teeth
22.
Two to One
I'm looking at your picture right now,
you, last year, looking over your shoulder
in the wide jade pool above Yelapa.
You think the radiant alabaster globes
of your immortal butt are too big.
We both think you're wrong.
23.
If it rains, no matter, we'll get wet,
so come with me, my love, to plant
roses, with our bare hands to thrust
naked root into dark fertile ground,
to get ourselves, besides wet, dirty.
And see the aftermath: what grows,
what blushed bud, what dizzy scent,
what love
24.
Ass
Here's the fundamental point:
it was the full flow of your period,
so we put an easy comma to our love,
a semicolon, actually, despite the tempting
availability of two nearly-willing colons.
Of course, almost parenthetically,
I had a vested interest in postponing
any impulsive M-dash, but your virtual
hyphen presented the biggest quest
ion mark. I carefully considered
your curly quotations "!" to decide
on a mutually acceptable graphic
alternative short of Greek apostrophe.
In the end, we abandoned the syzygy
of writing for a magnificently messy,
unpunctuated, purely oral intercourse.
25.
Discovery
is nuzzling your cheek
and gazing raptly down
past your perfect breasts
and over your white belly
to see the impassioned eyes
of some love-struck stranger
staring straight back into mine.
26.
a month of poems
when all the poor boy really wanted
was your mouth
sliding down
and your rapt fingers sliding up
with nothing
to break the surge of pleasure
but your impudent slow grin
27. The Sadness of Birds
I drive my hips
to that slow cadence we have taught each other
holding above you on locked arms
Spinus tristis sad goldfinches
tweeeeing and flitting in the topknot of a mother cypress
it is not
my mass that weighs you down
but the turmoil and tedium
of the everyday so that your body welcomes me but harvests no pleasure
sad
to our ears perhaps but the clear down-slurred music of the birds
carries another more joyful
burden for these tiny finches
until with no warning
ecstasy finds you seizes you lifts you up whirls you away
until nothing
remains but the tree's grace arms wide against the blue blue blue
exuberance of sky
28.
If left to its own tendencies, I believe poetry
would exclude everything but love and the moon.
--Robert Frost
tonight let's sink into clear warm water
as silver light inches over the ridge
to tangle in the crowns of the eucalyptus
let's hear again neighborhood owls
reunited and triumphant in the shadows
let's embrace until the lonely moon
comes brazenly to kiss our shoulders
©2007 by Bill Noble
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Bill Noble is the Fiction Editor for Clean Sheets Magazine.
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