| |
|
|
Below is another poem written by Adam Czarnowski, which he has kindly given me permission to reproduce. There are currently 18 others poems by Adam here: Adam's poetry page. I hope that you enjoy these as much as I have. At the bottom of the page you can return to poem 3(SJ)
Washing away Wednesdays turning Tuesdays to solid flame
Hungering for chomping cheeks and chaste islands lit with vellum bellies and belted babes
Two solid Jets rammed with passengers bucket shopped and shipped East
You will meet at the airport first and fertile
Folding fingers and furtive eyes above the luggage courage
Meet the pink eyes and white concrete of conquering Crete
Sun blast you out your seat
Winking eyes and counting moustaches back in the land of living
To beat a bus and bold sun on the asphalt to asphyxiation
Sheltering with the lambs and priests near Preveli
Prevailing winds meet mountains half-way
Reach an agreement and urgency that grabs you by the throat
This is printed piety and poised prose
You will accept that you are flake and muscle
That your hands are mustard that you need fold and flesh
You will accept the living covered by your eyes
Putting your hands in others meet the man mosey and muse
To teach tremendous truths takes courage not custard
A brake broken and the flesh that withstands flame
Turn not away down valleys, mount mountains
Music amazes me I count colours vases and verses
Each table unfolds a tableau a tablet that I must read
A bitter and acid etching that itch the eyes
First feet fall the stairs down and anger and coffee rushes
Covering the kitchen table with cups and downs of daily life
You knew nude the naked truth upon the beach
And every vision speaks the same winter cold or summer burn
The light that tickles the soul beneath
The clam opens and the tides surge feeds his tender skin
© Adam Czarnowski, September 22nd, 2000
