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To create nonsense, come such
and what not (flailingly
and surreptitiously) he
was unopened, when she
(darker than life) underwent
through the narrow passage
of his undergarments, kimonos,
cheese sandwiches and galoshes-
it was really spectacular,
come to think of it,
as the crowd cheered in horse-
like procession-
it was all in the wind,
the chains, the valleys and
the lonesome meat grinders
swooned like a pack of
wild elephants and tearful
virgins, what if, what if,
reverberated now and then-
but we knew (at least you
were aware) the race was on
uncaptured and decapitated,
plowing away through the
corpses of ancient books,
thick accents, glued to my shoes-
ah that was, is, and will be
quietly as the rose unshields
its blossoms and too few
can remember
such things as childlike
curiosity and the touch of spring,
except in the pink of summer,
when all is ripe, she appears
to him, all the more invisible,
slowly growing-
one, ten, three thousands,
stars and supernovas,
created as if in sleep, to which
we woke one day
and capitulated, screamed,
laughed, knowing full well
the touch, feel, sight
and fragrant sound
of the waves.
June 9,2008
Alexander Shaumyan
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