The Geranium Hotel Poems

Great feelings of the rotten heart I can't help but steal unpolished gold for you There is nothing in this heaven That is neither medicine nor tonic Do you fall along the pathway in your sleep? Or find the tread of your shoes in your dream Can you believe the voice that you hear? Is it that of your mother's? It could be that of your own- faint, mossy, dusty The world for you is still flat The world is still a threat And in the garden we will tie the monster to the cross We will bury the horse and drown the rich Something will happen soon, something fine Something that lifts the rain Something that helps the landslides fall far And when we grab at the trees When we start burning the ladders Mocking hounds and charging at those stubborn bulls We know that bravery is a word that was born with triumph Yet who knows what decision was made when the letter was sent Who knows what step will be taken Where will the fox bite you? I know Fear resides down by the ...

John Berryman, I found myself sitting on the concrete step Reading a collection of your poetry A mine of your thoughts on Henry and Bones Waiting for my ride to leave her office It was raining, I suppose you might have liked the divine water Coming from the misunderstood heaven I was dry on those steps Watching the birds fly against the grey I read of your elixir, I read of your thoughts My thoughts were of stews and disguises My fingers ran down your yellow pages My eyes ran down your stains In judgement, in rapture, in on your secret You see, John Berryman, I believe in you I believe in your soul, your guilt, your pleasure I believe in your heterosexual mortality I found myself sitting on that stairwell Watching the horoscopes fall down into your lap Watching the leaves turn into the rotting flesh of Autumn The students of the university running Their shoes leaving magnificent craters in brown mud These young men and women just like those who you would have ta...

I kind of miss my cigarettes Like I miss my youth I miss the ideas of dreams Like holding onto something I kind of miss watching records turn Like eating food in bed Like watching cartoons with no shirt on And I miss the idea of time I really miss you looking out for me Getting drunk and cooking eggs I miss the ideas of your art on my walls Like the scrawls of a likeable Warhol I miss being out in the trees Collecting their leaves and noticing patterns Watching the birds fly in their freedom I miss knowing that feeling I miss the wry wit of your sentences Your humour, flat and dry like a desert horizon I miss thinking one day you will sing for my band All those concerts I will never see, all that excitement I miss that moment when the lights go out That moment when you jump the border I miss the thrill of singing along I miss talking late into the night To all the old friends Who wont be here forever Like myself... I miss laughing with them and getting drunk ...

You wanna hear the music I can hear on the boundaries of my soul The symphonies of disaster, the snare drum of love awakening Millions of songs and billions of notes all playing simultaneously And they have got nowhere to be, nowhere to go Playing for just one listener who sees their colours, Playing just for me Each note shatters every thought of art and my eyes change colour Each note is so quiet that I can't perceive the theory of sound, the notion of vibration The music plays for my guilt, my innocence, my words of love and untapped hate I don't know how to listen without dying over and over I don't know how to listen without being reborn Where does one instrument stop and the other begin? Where does one note of brilliant shine start and the other fade and die? Will I die with it? Into silence away to the next Can I die with it? Fading away like the reflection of stars on water Will it echo on forever, like a burning star, like a great driving wind? ...

You can smell the lime trees Hidden amongst the jungle vines Where the river's water flowers Where the birds are fortunate And they fly Back and forth You can kick the dust Or sit in the sand Like an Egyptian Sphinx Riddling this, Riddling that Escaping the daily cares Back and forth You can see the sea Through the citrus grove Past that brick wall And the colours are open to the dreams You visit Back and forth The smells are strong As you sit there The colours are bright And free, never lost Such a triumph of life Back and forth Those trees, so bored and lonely Jealous of those birds coming and going Watching as the flowers bloom As the vine's tendril curls with every rain Yet the tree is the land mark As we come and go Back and Forth Back and Forth

Little patience on the banks of brass Drunken pirate dolphin myths I heard someone say 'No this isn't it' But I will love you again  The world leans to one side The thief is on the hwy driving alone  Golden trophies fall off stools No heroin men to catch them I hear laughter and a spanish guitar I hear of Spain and i hear of Hadrian But the control of accent applauds the commercial No trial and no judge Just the blind jury who holds no scale And alone on his bed, naked against his wool There is a man with the softest of thighs No shackle, not looking for danger nor adventure But if you ask he will tell you Shoes should leave a trace in the dust As words should leave a deep cut on the page The world is yours to bruise and damage With art, with poems, with figures curved from rock and clay Go and find Herod's death bed Listen for the rolling stone You are the man who rings the bells And the fire blazes out of control ...

Do you remember that boat? The colour of the waves The sea, the froth, the birds, the sand All things that existed for just one day All things that go on in my mind We rowed out, but never too far We shared the same unspoken fear The day was a day of rolled up pants Shirtless bodies The sun lit your chest hair on fire Shadowed your lips when you smiled Etched your muscles deeper Helped the day fall under a terrific spell A spell which I am still under And the day that I die When I am carried from my home The warmth of that sun will slowly disappear It will fade from my broken body The spell will be broken  The spell will be broken Do you remember the silence on the boat After the olives and the wine? Do you remember the kiss, the caress, the sweat, the ghasp? The only line of poetry you knew you screamed At me, the gulls, the sky, the sea! The day was long, beautiful, historic and simple The day was the history of the world in ...