Wednesday, October 21, 2015

POEM: "Incubo"


I. Politica/Sogni

Reach down under the blanket
late night attaching to your body
a little preening thing nondescript
misshapen unformed maybe white
like an invisible tail anyway it is
useless and indigent now certo
not a she this is no beautiful dream
it doesn’t intend to warm your bed
it wants you it’s not clear what for

II. Bertolt Brecht/Billy Strayhorn

The lush lives glide o’er the sea
a pinch here a pinch there you there
entitled to a rest with peaceful thoughts
the rest of service surrenders to the hungry ghosts
who cannot speak unqualified for the street
well it’s dumb waiting for unexpected things
lift my leg swerve avoid shun cross over
anything I don’t know yet is waiting
I won’t transubstantiate my sober body

III. Nessun Dorma

Were I a better fighter I’d stop writing
these letters to the future change me
into a demon that recharges fate
and if a better poet I’d crack skulls
till there was only the two of us here
tossing yarrow stalks in a dream
nothing won nothing gained nothing
that wouldn’t sit quietly inside the clock
waiting for our fortunes to flick past

IV. If It’s Not Asking Too Much

No matter where the male or female sings
a chattering ape sits in the corner of the room
the rule of fourths says that three-quarters
who have the disease will never be at peace
all teeth are grinding through the visitation
tie the fellow up he’ll listen to your counsel
providence offers a haven to the pirate tribes
men walked proud from the bluest ocean
out of frame there was a steep cliff and trees

V. Poetry/Sex/Eat/Sleep

Of course it will get something from you
third wife the boss girlfriend the barbie
incubi will incorporate all shapes remember
it’s not a fantastic dream there is no bed
awash in smells of precious oils these sheets
so wound in washing machine dreams
you awake wild-eyed lately even a hint
of smoke in the air above the pillows
the words poor teacher a poet this world

© 2014 Rob Schackne

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