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ANSWER ME WITH POWER, PET

Last year at Antwerp it rained
Night fell at Antwerp
Day broke,
The seasons went on.

Last year at Antwerp the sun
Shone for part of a day
And then moodily disappeared
Clouds gathered

People moved

And shopped

And the merchants made or lost money
And there was some crime
And some were judged harshly
But lovers walked the streets
Even those whose love was secret
And people smiled
Or frowned
As they pleased
And the rivers moved on
And I
Circumambulated
The holy city.
Last year at Antwerp
Was a year without sun or rain
Or night
Or day
Last year Antwerp
DISAPPEARED WHOLLY
Vanishing into
My cloud-filled imagination
Until it became
My blood,    my eyes,
My scabrous,
               aging
                        body
***
—My scabrous,
              aging
                       body




ALL RIGHT, YOU SAY YOU’RE A JAZZ POET,

does that mean you identify
    Do you listen to Bach
with the girl singer
    and to Charlie Parker
(with her single voice)
    Do you see how
or with the band
    Charlie Parker
with its   MULTITUDE
    is indebted
of
    conflicting,
                   harmonizing
                                      voices?

    to Bach?





 Jack Foley

LOW BLOOD SUGAR INCIDENT  


Why did you come?

You called out for me.

What was I doing?

You were standing there. You were confused.

How did I get on the floor?

You sat down.

And then I couldn’t get up?

That’s right. I tried to bring a chair.

You gave me candy—Life Savers.

That’s right. Then you felt better.

I was able to stand up.

Yes.

I don’t remember. I must have got up to go to the bathroom.

Yes

.…

I went to the bathroom again and then back to bed. When I closed my eyes I saw small red stars flashing against a black sky.


5/25/14



THE SUMMER WOMEN


The women in their

Summer dresses

Breeze teasing them

As they whirl and

Stir

The summer women

Their bodies Move in

Clothes that cling—

Stay

Violently in

The mind

Stay

As they move

In summer,

In their summer

Clothes.


...


and the girls die too

death slams them

                           what joy it is

they goes into dark

like me or you

                           to tell a woman

the dark man holds them,

kisses.

                          something she does not know

Deathfather

incests them

                         and is interested in

—bad: what happens to me or you

worse: them

                        hearing




THE MAN WHO FORGOT THE MOON  


It seems unbelievable

                                            Dreams of the desert

And yet,

                                            My world was coastal

Just as Borges said,

                                           The vast Atlantic near at hand

It was true:

                                           My ancestors

I forgot the moon,                                                                                                O Mother,

Wandered                                                                                                            Fountain of Love,

The cold, changing light in the sky,                                                          Let me feel these        sorrows

                                          And were “uncontrollable”

Present every night.                                                                                Grant that my heart

                                          I come promising                                                      Burn

I put everything else in the book,                                                                        And that the wounds

                                         Night languages

Trees bank vaults fountain pens breasts smiles                                                 Of Crucifixion

                                        Blinding suns                                                               Pierce my body

Gnats—everything.                                                                                             Let me

                                        Lies

And yet I forgot the moon: la luna                                                                       Weep for the

Crucified One

                                      The moon—                                                                  And stand beside you

The great project—                                                                                             In sorrow at the cross

                                      I thought your world

A book including everything—                                                                            That when my body

                                     Dust                                                                               Dies

Everything there is on the earth                                                                         My soul may find

                                    And yearning:

And what is above it

                                                                                                                 The Glories of Paradise

                                   Land of caballeros, swords, and palm trees                    Virgin,

And below it—                                                                                                    Grant

                                   Land of learning

And there                                                                                                           That I die Christ’s

death

                                  And the incalculable                                                         That I bear the

Passion

That eye—                                                                                                          And the remembrance

                                 Ambiguities

Nowhere to be found in all my pages                                                      Of His wounds.

                                Of the real.                                                                         Make me

Which go on for millions of words.                                                           Drunk

                                Do you dream you can rule deep water?

No moon.                                                                                                           With the Way of the

Cross

                               Our promises                                                                      And the blood of your

Son

My wife (who is in the book)                                                                   Lest I be destroyed

                               Rise

Scorns me openly.                                                                                            By fire

                              Transforming us.                                                                 Lest I be abandoned

My children                                                                                            On the Day

                              I am passing

Are objects of ridicule.                                                                                     Of Judgment.

                             Like a wave

They are the children                                                                                      Stabat Mater

                             Like a particle of dust

Of the man

                             Like a leaf.

Who forgot

                             Let the deceptions of love

The moon.

                            Blossom

What kind of a world is it

                           In these precise moments

That has no moon?

                          Of daring and uncertainty.

What kind of a world

                          I breathe in dust,

With nothing

                         We will be gone—yes?

That reflects

                        “Highest good

The sun’s      deep          rays?

                       Is like water.”