The Russian Grave Of A Turkish Man


On the beach by the loosely patterned sand
Behind the dune where the world sits in patient disguise
Tangled within a day of windy weather and eastbound cloud
The birds are in season, hormones drift onto the foam- it drifts towards Asia
Hunters walk toward the rocks looking for the soft shelled fish
Whores lounge upon the little grass there is
In the sand, by the corpse of Pierre Loti there is a letter addressed to the people of Turkey
And the core of an apple gets picked up by a girl no more than four
The wind comes in sideways and picks up the echo of the season
Letting go of rocks prisoners throw them to the sea
Hounds leave their prints in the sand while chasing the scent of french authors
Explorers grow old against the shelter of the dunes
Victors grow warm against the skin of the next generation
It is the recorded influence of the classics and the educators
Toffee wrappers get lodged in the throats of the downstairs stairwell whisperers
Heavy eyelids are folded against the perfect notion of the days bliss
Nothing is chimed against what was recorded in the bibles belief of the future
Nothing was said about naked men drying on the driftwood sonnet
Answers were given to the coral questions found in the chests buried and rusty
Money was chipped out of the fire with bird song and heavy sword
The guitar was burnt while the squad polished their bullets
The beach is good for a bloody massacre, the Spanish hills good for rearing poets
Who will breach the lines, who will emerge from the myths of origin?
A great confined surface makes the squinting eye see the sunlight bend
By the falling walls are the men with the peacock feathers
Children throw the flowers of Turkey on the Russian graves
Men, once thought of as prisoners, write letters to the ghosts haunting the candy stores
Where are the Roman deities of manhood?
Where are the sacrifices to happiness, to Genius, to the serpent of the volcano?
Cloud reflected on the blue, blue against the sky
Need is such a strong word, yet without you I am merely silhouette








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