poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:034
WILLIAM DORESKI : Dickens and Nabokov on Beheading
KIRBY WRIGHT : Black Point, Oahu 2004
JAN OSCAR HANSEN : A Wife Not Mine
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WILLIAM DORESKI

Dickens and Nabokov on Beheading
My boot laces have grown too short to tie. Bending over them, I creak like a rusty machine. New snow leers in the driveway, daring me to clear it. The laces have shortened and snarled. They sneer like cartoon grimaces. I toss my boots at the wood stove and lurch in sock feet through the door and deep into wet snow. My feet clench into fists. Guillotine sheets of snow lurch from the metal roof but miss beheading me. That reminds me to reread Dickens and Nabokov on beheading, topic of a talk I'm slated to give next week, if I survive. Maybe instead of novels I'll read the squirrel tracks already embossed in the snow. Looks like one chased another to the base of the big hemlock, where a lone seed dropped in flight punctuates the virgin surface. Lacking any hint of drama, my sock tracks look foolish and blank. The absent tread pattern suggests a correspondent lapse in purpose. I retrace by stepping backward in my prints until I reach the door. Back by the woodstove I strip my wet socks and point my feet to the fire. My boots lie sullen with soles exposed, mocking me with deep rubber treads tough enough to last a dozen lifetimes.

poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:034

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
VIRGINIA WOOLF
The Art of Reading



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KIRBY WRIGHT

Black Point, Oahu 2004
Here you can swim As far as you can go. The reef is not distant— Soon you will be aware of its teeth. Bikinis and one pieces Cover the beach. An Asian girl searches for friends Along the seawall. She reminds me of what I lost, The years of crushes and failed loves. I'm there again getting crushed And losing all over again This time wearing Sunglasses, visor, marlin-blue trunks. The familiar sand Shifts beneath my weight.

poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:034

I have many things to write unto you but
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JAN OSCAR HANSEN

A Wife Not Mine
My brother the warrior, died on a distant battlefield. His wife sleeps in the garden tonight on a blanket by the pond, she's my woman now. Gave herself to me but for her heart and a memory that can't be erased, when nature's war thundered overhead. In moonlight she's a statue of ebony with a Janus' mask of hidden longings. She dreams, smiles a beam from a heart full of love for her warrior's shadow, as clouds drift passed the moon. Awakes when the fiend, in the nursery cries. I have seen those eyes before and know that my brother will never die.


poetryrepairs #198 v14.03:034

Poetry endangers the established order
of the soul - Plato

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition.
-- Oxford English Dictionary



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WILLIAM DORESKI : Dickens and Nabokov on Beheading
KIRBY WRIGHT : Black Point, Oahu 2004
JAN OSCAR HANSEN : A Wife Not Mine

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