The Geranium Hotel Poems

Did you read the triumphant note I left you? About white fields, small fox carcasses and the child who played the horn? I told you of lightening rods that stood at attention Like the trees in fields remembering the forrests of their youths Standing to look out, standing to search, waiting for them to return There was mention of windows and us Window sills are the great shelves in our lives Holding the frailest of life's living beauty and then waiting for us to lean from their frames They are living canvases with the gallery closing when the shutters are closed On the bed dead moths fall  In Russia people are trying to justify the movements from three decades ago Is history a form of blanket to keep warm with? Is poetry a grave to fall face down in? And somewhere the mildest of men is watering down his steps Wondering why church pews must be so ornate And so hard The wind brings his fringe up and for a second he looks like neither his mother or is ...

Did you have your memory covered In a hundred white layers of snow? Would you be buried by an avalanche If I ran away to you If I ran back to you? I let my memory go to weeds The flowers died and blossoms withered I forgot about the bulbs I forgot about the summer I walked beneath the sweet cool elm Like one in which we climbed and kissed And my heart shuddered- grew warm again And those bulbs they grew They shot from the ground The weeds they withdrew and the flowers of your memory blossomed And I wanted to run away to you Back to you Are you who you used to be? Do you daydream about the closeness? About the Heroes and the Myths? About the centre of the world In which we stand O! have you changed? These memories haven't, tho numbed they've been I've missed you boy I've missed you And all I ask is think of me and let the avalanche fall Be crushed, be smothered! I will come and melt it all, I will find you I will warm you i...