The Geranium Hotel Poems

On the eve of the middle day of spring I looked to the sky the clouds were coming over in a storm It was the first storm of the season that wasn't cold I walked slowly from where I worked and you, Chiko, entered my head You and our history I think of you quite a bit I'm not too sure where you even live anymore but you and your laugh are a constant on weird days I don't know why I think it is perhaps because we had such a weird relationship Such a weird, beautiful, understanding, relationship That when these days come along Every once in a while I think of myself snug in the southern winter in your arms And I wonder, Chiko, do you ever think of me? Or do you think you are better off chiseling away at the memory of me until nothing remains but a book on New York taxis?

What am I capable of? Growing great forests of elm from sapling and seed Trees that never lose their leaf just change their colours from emerald to golden and back again and nowhere will sun break through there boughs but were I have trodden What am I capable of? Building great cities of disagreeing poets carved into a smoking volcanos side which shall over flow and exterminate every poet when they finally agree The only survivor will be the milkmaid and her schoolboy son What am I capable of? The great seduction of St Peter and convincing him to leave his post leaving the gates open for the corruption to begin looking over this angel’s shoulder while he kisses my neck and seeing all the disagreeing poets stride in What am i capable of? Keeping the minds and hearts of millions of lovers here on my death bed and bequeathing them to one person the milkmaids son who must and will use them to start a great bonfire in the centre of a great forest where the leaves never touch the ground