Issuu on Google+

Certitude: By Andy Posner


Nothing is Enough  ..................................................................................................................  3   Beginnings  .................................................................................................................................  4   The Youthful Lover  ..........................................................................................................................  5   Praise  ....................................................................................................................................................  5   Clouds  ...................................................................................................................................................  6   Look at Me  ..........................................................................................................................................  7   The Religion that Bears Your Name  .........................................................................................  8   Dawn for Young Lovers  .................................................................................................................  8   Gifts  .......................................................................................................................................................  9   Be Still  ...................................................................................................................................................  9   The Seamstress  .................................................................................................................................  9   Premonition  .....................................................................................................................................  10   The Fire in the Fountain  ...................................................................................................  10   The Mind & the Heart  .................................................................................................................  11   The Ship  ............................................................................................................................................  12   I Want Our Love To Save the World  .......................................................................................  12   I Want to be concise  ......................................................................................................................  13   The Two Seasons  ...........................................................................................................................  13   My Life  ...............................................................................................................................................  14   Serenity in Chaos  ..........................................................................................................................  15   Endings—And Beyond  .......................................................................................................  17   Hope  ...................................................................................................................................................  17   Alone at Night  .................................................................................................................................  17   The Lover  ..........................................................................................................................................  18   Love Eternal  ....................................................................................................................................  18   The Departed  ..................................................................................................................................  19   Nothing is Ever Lost  .....................................................................................................................  19   The Sanguine Sinews  ...................................................................................................................  20   The Eternal Law  ............................................................................................................................  21   Last Gasp  ..........................................................................................................................................  21   The Poetry of Pain  .........................................................................................................................  22   Resignation  ......................................................................................................................................  22   The Lover’s Creed  ........................................................................................................................  23   Certitude  ...........................................................................................................................................  23  

       


Nothing is Enough

“I have. . .a terrible need. . .shall I say the word?.. .of religion. Then I go out at night and paint the stars.”--Vincent Van Gogh A mystery consumes me. I pass the morning in ardent search of last night, and furrow my brows as though dreams would return in the grooves of my forehead. That is not enough. Nothing is enough, and yet I never can go faster or slower than one second at a time. My enthusiasm teeters between the unbearable and the blissful. At once I want to scale the heights of human knowledge, to create art, kisses, love, peace...but then the next moment carries the enormity of my desire and I fall upon the ground of my being, like an electric charge in a puddle of amino acids. So I continue, neither collapsed nor elevated; every sight I see, every thought, however subtle, every word I read or write only adds to the fury. Nothing is enough. A mystery consumes me. It is hard to tell whether it is best to touch the heart of the unknown, or to kiss the cheek, the dimples, the eyelids: to press my mouth against the furrows, the forehead of a muse, of a woman I love, of an incarnation of the mystery, the dream and the knowledge. This poet, on this evening, as a result of these emotions, turns all his interstellar passion towards romance like a scientist imagines the possibility of life on other planets. I am not alone. More opens up to me every day than does to a horizon at sunrise. Yet I feel lonely. Nothing is enough. Let it then be said that I am neither complacent nor decadent. Out of a deep need for running my hand across the entire gradation of life and death, I can never be satisfied with what has been done. There is a push and pull within me that in geology moves the sea floor, creates earthquakes and makes the tide rush suddenly over the feet of young lovers. It is obvious that my idealism must be such that in order to lengthen my arm, I would, night after night, reach unceasingly for a drop of moisture in the atmosphere. Life is an ever-increasing approximation of our ideals. Nothing is enough. If ever we reached the point where it was enough, then that would be heaven. But heaven is an ideal, and our destiny is to forever approach it—the asymptote of our aspirations. Would that there were no tension in the cosmos, all the arts and sciences, all the physical, mental and spiritual phenomena would cease to exist. Eternity is found in coming closer and closer to that state in which, unfettered by a psychological, physical, and historical upbringing, we become parents of the stars.


Beginnings 1 I've fallen for a woman I've never seen; That is, if eyes are the only source That vision gives, And the heart the body does not outlive. What does it matter that she is far? What plant laments the cloudy heights From which falls the fragrance of food? Why clothe myself when I am nude And the scented earth oils my skin? But fragrance alone does not sustain. A drop must fall, and a bouquet Must rise to meet its prey. 2 O, woman of my dreams, attack me fiercely. The dreamer loves his dream! The heart desires its counterpart! Wound my flesh with your sharpened lips And reach my shore on the boat of your hips. I smell your approach: the footsteps of waves. I tremble. Like a necklace, I fling myself around The neck of a distant star; you've crashed on this beach! O, you bring to me the hopes Of a lifetime. I embrace you, and cope.                    


The Youthful Lover I am vain. I want your skin, your dimples, your breasts. I want to trace your eyebrows with my lips And border with my hands your hips. I am simple. I want your words to fill my ears like cups. I want to harvest you as grain, to grapple with And bite into your mouth like an apple. I am young. I want your youth, your innocence, your wisdom. I want to possess your body like a tempest And fill the sail of your sex to its fullest. Praise Praise me with the love in your eyes, Clear, like water in a beaker, So that I may measure myself against you. For sound only makes the water bubble, And words are the worst praise I’ve ever heard.

 


Clouds It is overcast today. I feel a calm That makes me tremble with life. Enjoy the sky, but know that The heart is a molecule of water. It won’t stay put. It is still, like ice, Or else frenetic, boiling, aching to disappear. I am in love with you. I will dissolve these clouds. Light will reveal you to yourself, from the crevice Of your collarbone to the leeward Side of your heart. Where the rain falls, so does The grass grow. I have fallen for you to be resurrected. My heart is a sky at once cloudy, At once clear. I am the earth. It does not concern me That you, too, are the earth. The clouds make for a murky firmament. There is a vagary to heaven. I am a sunken ship. My treasure Is a kiss carried away by currents. At first I stirred up dust: I was happily lost. Now I see the beauty in your feet. I am making love to you on a bed Made of all that has settled. It is like this: the clouds once obscured heaven By touching it. When they collapsed in violent storm I felt the rapture in pain. All that touches the beloved Stirs a lover. Your hand has caressed the whole earth. Every leaf, every seed, every pebble Is in love with me. . .is like the ripeness of your body Devouring the ripeness of my body.


 

Look at Me Look at me, This mess of flesh, of blue eyes, Of tendons and nerve endings (No, they are not endings). My mouth has trembled with the Thought of your lips (My mind is wrapped in skin). I would unwrap myself, but I am human (all life needs a boundary); My words bleed from my mouth to you. In daytime, flowers hold the rays of sun; At night they let go-- (flowers control The movement of the heavens). If am to convey anything to you then I must hold you (My synapses will pulse into your body). But how can I approach you? I am told (Even by a part of myself) that I must keep a distance thicker than skin. My youth makes me think That I can influence the cosmos-I hear your laughter from afar.


The Religion that Bears Your Name While seated in meditation You walked past my shut eyes, My face in peaceful repose, My still body, more still than a garden. I must have seen you in the vivid Colors that sanctify the dome Of my eyelids: white banner, blue bicycle, Red silkscreen. Soon I arose and spotted you As things appear underwater; Hand in hand we walked, My breath deepening to the depth Of your origin, my hand touching The coral of your hand. Your presence fell Around me like a geyser or a current; All that I had inwardly seen with Private purity now took shape in your body, And blood singed my face As though angry to have been converted To the religion that bears your name. Dawn for Young Lovers As the first light stirs Not a single word is spoken: Your arms seek me beneath the covers. My soul finds you beyond the clouds. When we rise a wild rain falls on our feet. Our minds blush burgundy; we bloom in footsteps. We stroll like ponds or lilies would stroll, Placid, reflective and fragrant. Outside the air smells of water and sails. Your hand, so small, carries me away. A pigeon flies overhead. I wonder where to. Then I break the silence, and whisper ‘I love you.’


Gifts I can only give you That which I cannot hand you. Forever giving gifts Unwrapped by your eager eyes-There is hardly room nor need For my hand in yours. Be Still Be still my dear. Stop running away from me. I merely wish to return the flower That you dropped last fall. I have followed you through meals, Through seasons, through lifetimes. Now it is spring and you pause a moment. Where will I put all these flowers, my dear? The Seamstress I love you, though it pains, And the pain to me shows Exalted mountains, expansive plains Where once I chose To lie, somnambular and closed. Love had led me to love; Dreams had led me to dreams; We arrived at a sheltered cove Where supernal reams Of strife stretched earthly seams. O, how long the days do last When a day a day can only be! My love, I forsake a guided past! It is your needle through me That stitches the strands of eternity.


Premonition The wind sweeps like a broom Through my lungs; Like a meek old lady, in a half- Lit store, closing shop. And I don’t know if it is the floor, Or my feet, or the wind that is cold. With each sweep the million-candeled Day flickers, then dies--There comes a point where only Shadows cast shadows. But because the wind is human It, too, stops sweeping; Dust never vanishes, only resettles. And when all is spotless, when the air Whispers in dying gasps, when I Sleep in perfect silence and the Flowers cease to tremble Somewhere, somewhere, A storm is brewing. The Fire in the Fountain I am a fire in the fountain, I am a lantern Swaying in sunset, I am the Four Corners Facing in and facing out, I am a wind That soothes bleeding, autumnal leaves, I am eternal, my soul repeats itself like A pattern. At night I extinguish in dreams And smolder like the marble smoke of a star: I am a fire in the fountain. The woods call me to their solitude and The city to its anguish. Sometimes heaven Wounds me with every shard of sky; Sometimes heaven glows beneath a lampshade. Love sends me fleeing the earth’s rotation Or else has me melting at the center of it all. My life is laid out like tile: a wild geometry Crosses me from day to day and year to year.


I seek the mysticism of a narrow street, Of applause, of thunderstorms, I seek The melancholy that streaks like rain across Dark crystal, I seek the peace that disappears In the passion emblazoned on an apple skin, That is a sand dune, half shadow half searing white, I seek to possess the earth like a King and give it away Like a Saint, I hunger for food and to feed the hungry: I ache for the fire in the fountain. The Mind & the Heart My heart says, “Give her all that you are and you will become More than you have ever been.” My mind says, “Learn from the past.” My heart says, “Disappear into her presence and you will glisten From every pore of the future.” My mind says, “If you are more than a body, how will I rescue you?” My heart says, “Trust your love as though it were a lover, Embrace your dreams: to do so is to hold her close.” My mind says, “I have no thoughts to heal the pain.” My heart replies, “If she hurts you, you are hurt. If she loves you, You are loved. There is no cure: I am the pain.”


The Ship I like to reach a hand into the unknown. I like to rise early and predict The patterns of the clouds. I like to let the evening give My skin a certain tenderness. Sometimes a song I heard yesterday Makes me dance, alone, on the grass. Sometimes I fall in love Because I want to cry. Sometimes I cry because I want to be loved. I go around the world placing beads of tears on the flowers. I look towards you like an explorer Towards the horizon. Great lands breathe life as they Step through a door of fog. My soul is a ship breathing Life on open waters. I Want Our Love To Save the World I want to spend my days with you, purchase a lifetime's worth of kisses, and invest my poetry in your womb. I want to make love to you, delight in our chaotic artistry, and breathe a call for rebirth


in your moans. I want to run away with you, dwell in the circumference of our love, and incite an unflinching stillness in your feet. I want to hold your hand, release love with every breath, and cleanse the earth in the open palm of our union. I Want to be concise I want to be brief. I want To have the shape of a boomerang, Go far off, return, spin wild, Dangerous, beautiful shapes In the air; I want to be powerfully small Like a tendon, eloquently sudden Like an adjective, expansively constrained Like a paradox: I want to be as concise As your body and as vast as your eyes. The Two Seasons In you I recall the forgotten rays of summer. Someone stole a strand of sun And wove it in your hair. I went looking for overflowing dreams And lost them in shadowless days. Someone let the children roam And forgot to call you back. I found a red leaf, red as sex and birth, Only to lose it in my sex and my birth.


Someone loved you more than sleep And couldn’t love you in his dreams. I tried for slumber and peace But summer slipped from my eyes. Now it is winter and I see withered leaves: Brown leaves, half resting in shadows-How can I ever tire of loving you? My Life My life is more than my life, More than possession can define. My life is your life: Because of you I refer to things as ours. No longer can I say "My heart breaks free upon the open sky." Lovers everywhere romance lovers anywhere-One heart, one life swelling through the earth. You have a wholeness that trembles, For at times I am lost to you, at times I am yours. You wander to the edge of wandering; You break the bounds of lost and found. A embrace would seem to contain you, Yet you chastise my arms with your freedom. Living is vague; my life takes shape when held To the light of your life.


Serenity in Chaos Cool breezes are pressing their feathery cheeks against the sail of my heart, sending me floating towards a horizon that smells of dew infused with flowers. Sunlight, as though poured from a faucet, moistens my skin with its bronze tint. Seated with my legs propped up on a table, I am comfortable, serene, as placid as a body of water seen from afar. Yet there is chaos within me. I try to focus on my work and instead a flock of migratory birds streak across my mental sky, reminding me that life is transitory, fleeting. I attempt to read an article even as my eyes well with tears, affected by the pollen emanating from some distant, beautiful source. The seasons are changing; the world outside my window is in flux. My trembling hands reach for a branch of sky, a vase filled with morning, only to find that the sky has fallen and the vase has spilled. How is it possible to feel so serene yet so chaotic? To be so keenly aware of the impermanence of all things and yet so content with everything, as though this moment could never change or disappear? The answer is that I am in love with you, deeply in love with you--the way that wet paint is darker and richer than when it dries, the love I feel for you saturates the pages of history and colors them with human possibility. And because I am in love with you I feel the unimaginable bliss of knowing that I am mortal, that my strength will one day fade—and I am liberated by that fact. Because I am in love with you my heart is like a lost kite, fluttering wildly‌eyelids in deep sleep along the undulating landscape of the breeze. Because I am in love with you the limits of time, space, biology, religion and philosophy seem as fluid as two bodies pressed together in the morning mist. When our bodies touch it is as though two sheets of silk--wrapped around our organs, our blood, our minds--were brushing past one another on the way to heaven. I see in your gaze the mischief, innocence and boldness of a mythological being. Your kisses lap against my lips like the ceaseless yearnings of the waves, eating away at the hull of my heart until I begin to sink, to fill with love and passion. And even as this transpires I make no effort to jump to safety--I have succumbed to you, given myself to the whims of your arms and the spirit that compels them to embrace me with the finesse of calligraphy. We are dancing on a planet that is twirling like a dervish, arm in arm, hand in hand, staring up at a universe that envelops us in mystery. The dance, erratic as it may appear, is leading us closer to Truth. I feel an overpowering


desire to contemplate the nature of the world and of existence with you. To tell you that we are free and explore that freedom with you. To show the world what kindness, passion and patience can accomplish, and accomplish that with you. To tame history, rewrite rules, explore the unexplored with you. Darling, I am not an ordinary young man. I am a Poet. I belong to my art, which consists of love. And because I love you, we belong to one another. I feel things deeply. I am a meek rebel, a pacific warrior. What you are unleashing within me can only be expressed in geological terms, on par with volcanoes, hurricanes and other natural phenomena. For no matter how many words I unfurl upon this page, no matter how many metaphors escape the prison of my mind, the actual pounding of my heart is infinitely more powerful. So I ask you to come to me. Place your cheek against my chest. Kiss my neck, my arms, my back, my lips. Look at me with your pleading, beautiful eyes. Tap the energy within me--the beauty, the passion, the love. I cannot promise that it will be easy to feel as much as we are feeling, but I can promise that the source of our love will always be goodness, openness and passion. Has time stopped, or has it simply ceased to matter? Has it ever? O, together we are the greatest conquerors, greater than the men and women of old that cut through deserts and forests, launched across oceans and space, for we are venturing into the farthest flung realms of existence. We are pursuing the Eternal, the One, the All-encompassing. And we are doing all this together. Whatever we do, my love, my heart, my soul, let’s do it together, be it as mundane as eating a meal or as sublime as making love--to each other and the world.


Endings—And Beyond Hope The world is divided into flowers. Some go to lovers, some to adorn death, And still others go dropping petals Like bombs because it is autumn And there is no hope for life. Alone at Night The sheets do not talk. The warm breeze does not know that autumn is near. Yet the language of despair Is buried like a fossil in my pillow. Here lies all that once was and no longer is; all that will be But evades my pulsing heart. Crickets echo in the dark like Distant moans that belong elsewhere. And just when moonlight Grazes the earth, memory Shines from some distant source, Metallic, grey, mysterious: Beyond the reach of mortal pain. What am I to think, alone at night In my room? That time is taut, Brittle and easy to break? That the distance between now and then


Is greater than that between here and there? Or that my alarm, piercing the air, Is like a sword dividing dreams from reality? The Lover Snow piled on the ground whilst I slept, Pure white specks of water cascading From the darkest corners of the sky, And unbeknownst to me my heart lept With the blind hunger of a reptilian tongue, Snatching at air and not knowing why. The morning usurped my hopes: its might An empire with dominion over human longing; And where the forces of wrong and right Entwined in diurnal battle, I glimpsed Doubt, hope, fear, bliss, and pain Trampled by the footsteps of light. With aching brain, locked inside my house, Thoughts of time overcame timeless thoughts. Yet even the winter months could not douse The flame that compels the world to grow. And so, asleep or awake, joyous or sad, My heart begs the world to be its spouse. Love Eternal Love eternal cannot be had; All things grasped will be unclasped Like hands that lose their early might. Love eternal cannot be seen; All sunsets fade away And even eyes, in death, decay. Love eternal can only pass Like a migrant bird: the trackless Tracks upon the sky.


The Departed My bed, that house within a house, Built of timber from your inner copse, now Splinters in the dawn, and I must douse The kisses destined for your brow, Lest the dreamer destroy the dream And repose fall from its narrow beam. O, but how the poet longs To mingle with your lips, To plunge into the throngs Of mysteries between your hips! For neither sorrow nor deceit outweigh The truth those mysteries convey! Time, that marauding force, Has yet to plunder my home, Though history ran its course And added to its mighty, darkened tome; Alas, a future groom Soothes not my sorrow’s womb. The edifice crumbles, but does not fall; Empty space remains empty for you; Together we sleep, curled into a ball Of hope that bounces out of view. Thus I ask: can I possibly be sane So long as you, the departed, still remain? Nothing is Ever Lost Nothing is ever lost; The rain that fell today Becomes tomorrow’s frost: Huddled in the grey Shroud of a cloudy sky Every droplet refuses to die. Nothing is ever lost; Love that filled my life, Love whose gloss


Resembled a ring for my wife, Now, seeking a hand and finding despair, Makes poetry of this familiar pair. But nothing is ever lost; Even as a wave Collapses and is tossed Upon the shore, brave Forces bring it back to sea Where clouds and lovers forever be.  

The Sanguine Sinews The fallen flaming leaf Waits for the snow in vain, Hopes to cool the burning wreath That leaves its heart in pain Before the winds of decay Silence passion’s ecstasy. O leaf, whose drops of fire Point their fingers at the sky, Whose vibrant sinews seek the ire Trapped in eyes that blink, but do not cry, What passing cloud, what swirling star Can return your lover from afar? I am the leaf, I am the flame, And I am the snow That makes anonymous my name; Yet only the true lover knows That time heals not wounds Else the sanguine sinews cease to swoon.

         


The Eternal Law Despair stabbed me on the way to delight: Its jagged blade, forged of hardened tears, Shore off the jasmine fragrance of the night, Postponed the puissant dawn for another year. O watch that won’t run, day that refuses to break! What infernal flaw ground your gears to a halt? How do I weather the sorrow foaming in your wake Or, tired and alone, ward off your relentless assault? Like a wayward meteor, I tumble through a sky That resents me, subject to laws I never chose; Yet that inner law of love belies These sheets made empty by a lover’s woes. O Lady Justice, come see what has transpired! Surely you will listen to my appeal And restore to life a bliss that has expired Else the eternal law of lovers be repealed. Last Gasp To you, the sudden hope outlined in lips, I ask the question that fear had ne’er touched: What myth does explain life’s dance upon a crypt, The unreal made real, the lost firmly clutched? Give me a vulgar sunset of pious Red and blue. Free me of meter and rhyme, The constraint of great laws, Himalayan In their looming grace; great, if not sublime. Yet if you must go, leave your charred embrace To singe the sinews of my tortured soul And paint the twilight on my sullen face; I alone wear a ring of tears grown old. O, but if you stay, warn the heaven’s Might: A lover’s heart cares not for heaven’s plight!


The Poetry of Pain My heart demands that I be verbose. Aesthetics ask for brevity. What reconciliation is there in a poem? Dawn bursts in an instant, Sprawled against the sky Like bleeding watercolor. Resignation Who would topple the pillars Of his heart to be a lover In the rubble? Who would resign himself To a fate of apple skins And compost? Who would risk death To have one sip of waterfall And clear motion? Who would be amazed By the physiognomy Of a maple leaf? Have you stared At the chronology of love Until digits disappear? Have you known The unknown From a glance? Have you been a pilgrim Traveling backwards Toward your sacred heart?


And have you kissed The thought Of a kiss? If you want to fall in love, All you have to do is lie down And give up. The Lover’s Creed Beneath an uncertain sky I stand, Facing the direction from which New seasons weave together strands Of memories formed from the twitch Of muscles: hearts that yearned and found, Listless lips that fell in love and ran aground. I hear in the rustling of trees the sound of a dress; The morning air smells of water caressing skin; O trickle of time! O moment just lost! Will you not bless My heart and save me from that worst of sins: To love so fully as not to see, To see so clearly as not to love? Evening dawns, and with it strange gusts Of color fill the sky. Alone, I face The sanguine cheeks of moments past, and lust For the kiss that became an Eternal embrace; And though the night be long and hard to read No despair can break my allegiance to the lover’s creed.  

Certitude Mystery eludes the firmament; The unbeliever rejoices, yet certitude Is but a pause, the prelude To an inexplicable and joyous lament. Trembling, your shadow drowns In an explosion of desire,


A death whose funeral is fire And in whose gravestone life abounds. I reach for you across the years, Across the smoke and haze That obscures your gaze From a constellation of tears. Somewhere there is a clock That ticks in silence, that measures Neither time, nor death, nor the pleasures Of life, but is as though a dock Unto a body of wonder and of hope: Shall we board the ship That follows your hips To the end of a lover’s rope? O, but where your breath rises There I lie, a fallen oak That doffs it cloak Of beauty in disguise. Naked, I am yours. Unafraid, unarmed, I seek your arms beneath the sheets That cover my heart’s uncertain beats And become indifferent both to comfort and to harm.


Certitude