Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Six Translations for Rexroth



MONK’S GIRLFRIEND
—for Kenneth Rexroth

I am startled until I
Realize that her pussy
Between her legs will be
Busy all night long tonight

MOONING
—for Kenneth Rexroth

Alone, under the full moon
Floating over my cabana by the lake
I have a sudden urge to feel the cold evening air
The bright moonlight spilling over the waves never still.
So I slip out of my precious silk quilt bed
Without blushing to myself…
Standing on the dock in the night
Dropping my kimono on the planks
Bending over beneath the stars and constellations.
Mooning Mt. Rainier to my heart’s content
Making my own Mt. Fuji blush…

AN EXCUSE FOR NOT RETURNING
THE VISIT OF A FRIEND
—for Kenneth Rexroth

Don’t be offended because
I’m slow to visit you. But you
Know me all too well. I’m in
Bed with two young beauties
Who won’t let me go anywhere.
They hug my knees and hide
My clothes and sandals…
Neither one speaks English
Except when I try to go. And
When I come they coo like
Little French pigeons, well,
You know how it is. Once
They start cooing there’s
No stopping, only beginnings.
They follow my every move
And won’t let me leave…
Making sure I won’t escape.
As if I wanted to flee…
There’s the door and here
I am. You know me, I’ll
Probably never leave this
Little love shack all summer.

A SONG OF DEPARTURE
—for Kenneth Rexroth

But now who will share with me
The joys of wine and poetry?
Tears streak my ruby rouge
My hairpins much too heavy.
I put on my new quilted robe
But the gold threads are too bright.
I feel moist as the pussy willows
Pouty as purple plum blossoms.
The warm rain and soft breezes
Make me throw myself against a
Pile of pillows, crushing my phoenix
Hairpins and stabbing me to death.
I used to embrace endless sorrow
But now I stay up till past midnight
Watching smoking incense sticks.

SORROW OF DEPARTURE
—for Kenneth Rexroth

Red lotus incense fades thru
The bamboo curtain. Delta
Autumn comes again. I open
Up the night and float alone
In your bayou boat. So happy
To be nothing more than a
Stoned hippie off campus?
Only my Cajun lover knows
I’m here waiting for him with
Eyes like stoned ideograms.
Under a moody night sky as
Hurricane Kristina approaches.
The Moon already floods the
Spanish Moss drooping down
From ancient magnolias…
Pelicans, after their kind, flutter
And scatter. Water after
Its nature, when it’s over,
At last gathers again in one
Place. Boyz of the same nature
Long for each other. But we
Are far apart and my heart
Weeps in magnolia shadows.
Nothing can make it dissolve
And go away. One moment,
It’s your eyebrows. The next
The way you looked at me.

TO THE TUNE “SOARING CLOUDS”
—for Kenneth Rexroth

I tongue your magnolia blossom
My lips play with your pistil.
We took a nibble of magic
Rhinoceros horn and couldn’t
Sleep all night long. All night
The mushrooms made me want
You. All night my lips cling to a
Trembling young Frenchman.
My cute swamp cousin nude
On the dock by the cabin.
Bordreaux boy smiles like
He means it, like he needs it.
Secret bayou date, and
Tonight I can feel him—
Blossom orchids of fire.

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