phase transitions

-



                in Saigon in Saigon
                the rains and sun are warm

                Golden California
                you're too cold too cold
                Northern California
                i don't want your gold

                if to be streetful
                then in Saigon in rain
                where air's wet to the full
                and becomes your home

                the tree of your head
                and the roofs in the rain
                talk all night but can't tell
                are we alive and wet
                or long gone and dead

                Golden California
                you're too cold too cold
                Northern California
                and your blinding gold










wh,
1991-april

achilles

 


    in the morning breeze
    achilles shouted
    i'll catch you
    and light on his feet
    in the blink of an eye
    approached the cheetah

    the cheetah smirked at achilles
    morphed into a horse
    and went away

    not too far

    it was noon by now

    achilles shouted
    i'll catch you
    and soon crowded the horse

    the horse smirked at achilles
    morphed into a cow
    and went away

    not too far

    it was hot afternoon by now

    achilles shouted
    i'll catch you
    and soon reached the cow

    the cow mooed at achilles
    morphed into a turtle
    and went away

    not too far

    the sun was setting

    achilles shouted
    i'll catch you
    and soon approached the turtle

    the turtle smirked at achilles
    morphed into a snail
    and went away

    not too far

    it was late in the night by now
    achilles sighed
    i am making progress
    years from now
    one day i may catch you
 

 

 


wh,
2006-01-24

[my father...]

my father and i
walk on the patio
every
weekday weekenday holiday
i admire the gardeners' care

who am i?
my father does not know
nor my mother's name
he does not remember
his long gone wife

i show him the bold roses
the light pink bush
the pristine white
and the third one
of the deep ripe cherry color

choose one

he selects
the deep dark red
my mother's favorite color

wh,
2010-may

Moonglasses

  moonglasses

mistic mystic brooding in the mystic mist
lost his thoughts in the fog
no police would find'im with their orange searching flash lights
only a philosophical dog

from the vanishing fog the moral has appeared at noon
pronounced by the zen respecting dog
but since no one cares about philosophy or moon
the moral has vanished in the fog.

wh ©
1990-02-11

*******

I made up the neologism "Moonglasses" as a metaphor for poetry, and posted the above text on rec.arts.poems. I was coming back to this theme repeatedly:





  moonglasses

transparent pigeons struggle
against a hurricane of vacuum
the waves of silence strike the shores--a blue hammer
in a hand of a judge--an illiterate stranger

blind and deaf i wear
my moonglasses

wh ©
1995-08-25

****

moon in the tear in your eye :-)
does it smile or did you cry ?

an eyedrop not a tear
protects my eye from too much light

wh ©
1995-08-24

****

Around 1997-8, there used to be an unusual server, RedFrog, owned by Iwo Gajda. Among the main activities of RedFrog were a children art website and a poetry website. The RedFrog poetry collection was by far the largest on the Internet ever, perhaps simply the largest. There were poems written by Internauts as well as classical poems, in many languages (English, Spanish, Polish, Portugese...). The websites were run by Iwo himself, who had also provided the entire software, for which he had an outstanding, artistic ability. In particular, he was also able to provide software tools to the users, without messing up the operation. Furthermore, he had involved some trusted users into certain tasks. In particular I had the honor to start the first two RedFrog antologies: "Moonglasses" and "Ksieżycowe Okulary", in which I was collecting my favorite poems by different authors, respectively in English and in Polish. It's sad that one day RedFrog simply vanished. Nobody knows what happened. While I left RedFrog somewhat earlier (half a year earlier? a year and half?), I still kept lurking a bit. Thus I may try to guess why Iwo could have been frustrated with the happenings. His idealistic view of the copyright was objected to by some publishers. The other problem was the progressing degeneration of the interactive Internet. Iwo was most likely the very first to introduce some constructions (at least in their easy to use form and superb functionality), which today we take for granted. Among other options you had on RedFrog the combination of personal archives (typically one per poet rather than one per user--also the long gone poets of the past had the archives devoted to their poetry) and of the discussion boards. Unfortunately, the level of the exchanges on the discussion boards ultimately went down the drain.

****

I experience, only too often, the "vasovagal syncop" (vasovagal reaction or effect), which means that sometimes the blood rushes away from my brain, and then I fall. As a rule it's not a big deal but last Friday it was not so simple. Oh, well.