the flower

by pamba* translated from the akkadian by horace p sternwall there is a flower that will only open when time stops o traveler do not wait upon the sun but hasten from this place this wall of the dreams of kings this palace of beggars this council house of skulls did you dream of stopping time it has already devoured you as the sand devours the sea as tilgath devoured babylon as nabopolassar devoured assyria as alexander devoured egypt as the owl devours the mouse o traveler do not wait but hasten from this place that those who laugh at the wanderings of men may send you a drop of rain a tear from the eye of the beast that devours you * pamba (c 1 ad - 50 ad) was one of the last poets to write in akkadian. nothing is known of him (her?)

the aesthete

i awoke quite weak and weary from a dream of aesthetic theory heard cats fighting in the street and the windows rattle with wind and sleet the leering, winking night was a symphony of fright the radiators cold as death the air filled with my frozen breath i put on my shoes and socks took a dollar from my cigar box though my debts i could not tally from my garret did i sally to the street so dark and drear with no companion but my fear and the lights of kentucky fried chicken toward which my steps did quicken and found the street so dark and fearsome oh if only i could hear some of the voices from the past to wash away my guilt at last some fragments of long ago which with the wind would blow my all-encompassing despair through my wet and whispering air and leave me just a shell on the dark doorstep of hell happily devouring my share of the colonel's crispy golden fare a basket of legs and wings to my journey finally brings the glow of stilled and final time i never found in art or crime

on the corner

i stood on the corner all my life and never got lost and everything in the drugstore i knew what it cost the pizza parlor behind my back the echoes from the railroad track the endless movies in my head the roads down which they never led the distant highway with its phantom trucks the silver rolls royces and the big bucks everybody's dreams or only mine? the flicker of a match or endless time? i want to jump in the river of darkness and wash my life away let that shiny moon rise over my grave and let them never find me the next day

traveling man

rome new york poor boy, far from home thumb out between troy and rome pa went bust and sold the farm the world is full of woe and harm muncie indiana women in muncie have sad eyes wear blue dresses and make pies they leave them on the windowsill for passing boes to eat their fill joliet illinois the girls all laugh at the poor boys standing on the corner in joliet illinois paris tennessee the sheriff in paris tennessee doesn't care for you or me he sits in front of the courthouse wall and hardly ever moves at all waycross georgia folks drink doctor pepper and moxie and go to movies at the roxie everywhere there's lots of dust they stomp and breathe it, because they must laramie wyoming tom thought adelaide was sweet they went to the diner across the street they had coffee and pie and such she looked out the window and didn't say much sheridan wyoming there was this hippie got on the bus he didn't look like one of us had wraparound shades and a long red beard he was a cannibal, we feared elko nevada hank lies in bed in the dark motel outside the world is hot as hell pearl stands in the doorway, if you please desperately waiting for a breeze death valley the vulture in the endless sky smoothly sailing, high and dry looks down upon the rattlesnakes and scorpions in the long dead lakes end of the road seeing the sun set in the west that was the thing i liked the best and when we reached the pacific coast that was the thing i liked the most the road goes on in greyhound stations a strange light falls across the benches at night

a walk on the beach

a tiresome windbag and a crashing bore walked along a pebbled shore the windbag spoke of the meaning of life the bore of his unloving wife a seagull watched as they grew near and saw the windbag brush a tear from his pale and fluttering eye beneath the gray and cloudswept sky the seagull had no notion of the cause of the windbag's emotion but scanned the wide and desolate beach for edibles within his reach alas, alas, the windbag cried as he scanned the detritus of the tide my life its course has near run through but i have not received my due o why is humanity imbued with inexplicable ingratitude for all that i have striven why is no acknowledgement given? the bore now caught the seagull's eye like his, it was exceeding dry and seemed to wander as the windbag on his one note continued to drag the horizon showed no mighty ships but a bag of wise potato chips caught the seagull's pertinent gaze the wind had blown the bag a ways the unbroken bag contained a feast to delight a human, bird or beast a potent mix of salt and grease to fuel a creature's inner peace the windbag with the bore kept pace as raindrops began to hit their faces the wind picked up, the tide grew higher the windbag's voice did not expire they continued down the beach's curve but from their natures did not swerve each one talked, but nothing said until the sinking sun turned red the night grew dark, and damp, and cold across the waves their voices rolled the windbag swore, the bore insisted the seagull forgot that they existed

pals, part 5: no escape

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in the pitiless whirlwind of the everyday where we never know what to say and time shreds our dreams and throws them in the universe's disappearing streams sometimes a moment comes when we hear the sound of pounding drums cutting through the constant buzz like a message that ever was as henry resumed his spiel explaining what was and was not real my eyes apparently became so glazed that even henry was fazed he stared at me and then said, " i hope i'm not boring you, ben" i tried to laugh it off and with a mendacious cough i said, "of course not, henry your conversation always fascinates me" he gazed at me in silent contemplation and then resumed his dissertation on the secret causes of world war one or maybe the exact moment the universe had begun in his even voice, as always before nothing less, but maybe something more my mind and eyes kept wandering to the door as they had never done before henry, who was actually somewhat perspicacious eyed me in a manner not quite gracious suddenly he stopped his face took on the look of a good cop "i am boring you," he exclaimed. "no doubt i have only myself to blame" although i did not get down on my knees i was full of apologies "i am sorry, henry," i mumbled on my secret had he stumbled? but what was my great secret? what did i have cause to regret? my feelings were no nebulous even i would be incredulous if i tried to in words to explain what i felt about jane who still had not come through the door as i glanced at it once more now henry, following my glance looked at me askance "expecting a visitor?" his eyes into me did bore "ah, just as i thought all along the same old sorry song you are certainly not the first it happens to the best and the worst -" "please," i heard myself say "i have had a long day and your wisdom, though rigorously distilled is still a bitter pill i think i need some fresh air" and under henry's incredulous stare i slowly rose from my chair looked at the door - still no jane there and departed the premises of ray's oh how many nights and days had passed, since once immured in my seat, i had so stirred before closing time was announced in my step there was no bounce as i stepped out into the night had my old life taken flight? or was this only a blip in the steady downward course of life's trip from nothingness to nowhere into the darkness i did stare my feet i began to move as i felt it did behoove me to leave ray's behind was i losing my mind? nobody called my name the street looked just the same the yawning emptiness of the night somehow felt just right a few hours alone in my room would not be a sentence of doom and so without remorse i set forth on my new old course my paychecks i would save to booze i would no longer be enslaved and so i had made up my mind but fate could not be so kind and to my doom i was lured for a voice behind me i heard my head i could not restrain from turning - and there was jane part 6

pals, part 4: reenter henry

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we walk through this world alone with secret dreams and silent moans in impenetrable dark with only an occasional spark what was jane to me but the same old mystery that envelops the trillion separate earths of a trillion separate births the whimperings and curses of a trillion universes abandoned and forlorn never asking to be born what had jane seen that night that had caused her to take flight was it any business of mine? a casual observer might well opine here i must confess i am beginning to digress i return to my narrative line next night i was right on time at the end of another day in "my" seat at rays cafe jane was not there, to my chagrin and then - henry walked in after greetings all around the bar he found and lovingly caressing his drink into "his" chair he did sink my world had been turned upside down but henry didn't laugh or frown in fact he hardly glanced at me but looked around quite placidly at the assembled denizens of rays who did not seem to be changing their ways they were staring at their suds as if eternity was in their blood nothing seemed worth a mention then henry turned his attention to me - his features rearranged and he said "you've changed" i had the wherewithal to say "everything changes every day" he replied quick as a cat "you don't get off as easy as that - i think you will agree that nothing gets past me" "no," i replied, slightly nettled "i didn't know such a thing had been settled." henrys eyes grew slightly wide and he casually replied "no reason to get testy, old boy i didn't mean to annoy it has been a while since we met and i must confess i forget where we ended our last converse - did we leave the world better or worse?" a fool could plainly see that henry was trying to placate me in his usual easy way so why did i hear myself say - "i don't know how i lasted so long without your dance and song your infinite knowledge of all events your deep wisdom and profound sense of all that has been and will be " henry just stared at me as if i had grown a second head and then he said - "my, aren't we in a lather i thought you enjoyed my blather or if not actively enjoyed at least were never annoyed -" henry's eyes narrowed and then he opened them wide again - "ah" he exclaimed with a trace of glee "i think i begin to see - you are showing all the signs most of them not benign of a guy who has had his brain hammered by a dame yes, i see it now only too well one of them has cast her spell maybe on purpose, maybe not i never would have thought -" i felt i'd been punched in the gut "never would have thought what?" "oh, i didn't mean to upset you" henry took a sip of his brew "we can talk about politics instead" a whirlwind roared in my head henry nodded and winked i didn't know what to think and where was jane tonight? nothing seemed right i really didn't know what to say about this game i didn't know how to play part 5: no escape