Two Poems

Vincent Katz

RAIN-TOPPLED FEBRUARY DUSK

rock and roll died without its personages

drab garments idiotic save a turn of the century black cape

with colored sewn flowers a male singer used

alleviate leaves in single brushstroke

the buddha amitabha seated in dhyana mudra indonesia

many quiet marvels in andesite

then the great faces of Rome the respect for personality

the looks out of those worlds tempera encaustic

highlights vast blizzards of congealment

dull longviews by one of photography’s masters

gentle limewood carvings of mother and child

polychrome illusion on doweled appendages

then back to the truth of the painters who marked

last century’s end, like writers accompanied them

smiling into absinthe, they sat and heard the world pass

in a horse’s whinny, clop clop on cobbles cigarette smoke

and alcohol a tiny hovel for one’s desires, pressed concupiscence

pastel woman fading into air overviews and reflex

the look of a real person smears of paint

an immense forest dark with sunset’s final brilliant oranges

poking glimmers a disappointing mess something really great

fête galante stumping graphite chalk red and white

eagles behind pinecones nestled in glass a belt buckle

glass choker with cats tiny leaves carved in sandstone painted

dimly lit hall perfect for Friday dusk kisses beneath the heights

invocations to turn to linger slyly pushing forward inches away

a sexy pose made clearer in lines become rigid no breathing of flesh

the empty bedrooms of the grand, sickbeds ecstatic flights

rain rhythms elastic bringing in front the slide down to park’s earth

request to fly homeward rested achieved in culture frequent side accounted told

BREADS AND SWEETS

bridling with unseen

energy, listen to moans

falsifications even

friends, haircut, architecture

slide downhill where everything

meshes, better than others

I lift my eyes to sink

vocal push into physical

size, body contacted

jealous of her producers

interviewers who miss

her point completely, sorry

but the songs ascend ignorance

shyly flirting segments

imagination, flaunted

intelligence, they leave her

undented in morning

actually it is I who

misunderstand from my

non-perspective, cascades

of words, piano and voice

are the weapons of armies

bolted to past thoughts and

present perceptions, refrain

the delicate intensity forked

spread up the photographs’

frankness, I want to use her

name, but not yet, the sky

has descended, earlier

we crossed the aqueduct

I live only in my life now

the words come from the

latin and they have been

preserved, I start to write

the unexpected streams

forth, didn’t know I was

thinking, was I? in

galleries, streets, passing

people borne down

by disharmony

they want that watch

and thatch but greed

hovers, oh no, here

comes the satellite

descending, descending

heedless of desire

trees’ grandeur in shady

boulevards, the song’s

pure chant hits, evens

promised longing till

self re-emerges, washed

and inimitable, once

again able to attend

I had hoped for so much

expectation of necessity

I am outside now

September’s clear

voice, indication

that shutters will

fall and open drily