Evening drifted alongside my meanderings in downtown chicago. The dusk kept the city in an imaginary scaffolding and I listened to the voice from across the seven seas. The voice lingered long after the beer froth and the frolic were over in wacker dr and Clark n Lake street, and still it lingered.
The house of blues was bracing up for another friday night.
Poplars sprang at the other end of city. They were looking upwards for starlings and in midway of the ascent. Lake michigan was like a huge drop of tear that fell ever so slowly as if time was suspended for a while...
The last train was rattled out of its torpor at Howard. Evanston was still a few miles away. I slumped back to my seat, tried to remember the subway singer's song... It must be Gibran who walked past the door to the adjacent car. He seemed to be returning home to May Ziadeh. She could be Hannah or S, waiting for the prophet.
The breeze from Lake michigan began to stir the night.
Back in my studio apartment phone calls, emails and messages buzzed. It rained here. She said it rained over there too. The night and day were strangely enigmatic to let ourselves pass it over.
Here is to the walks in soliloquy and the love of my life, the five disjunct stanzas:
Hannah loved her prophet
from a distance so far that
her love was a kind that
propped the stairway to heaven.
Poplars remember our love
sometimes cut between
weed grown fences and the backyard
time wept and rotted.
My desire has the wings of a sad albatross
on its solitary flight across
windswept islands and seven seas.
Your love makes this life lighter
so light that things stay afloat
about me and this world.
You and me - the space in between,
thinking of life. love is like night rain
we pass over it by sleep.
- Spring 2000
The house of blues was bracing up for another friday night.
Poplars sprang at the other end of city. They were looking upwards for starlings and in midway of the ascent. Lake michigan was like a huge drop of tear that fell ever so slowly as if time was suspended for a while...
The last train was rattled out of its torpor at Howard. Evanston was still a few miles away. I slumped back to my seat, tried to remember the subway singer's song... It must be Gibran who walked past the door to the adjacent car. He seemed to be returning home to May Ziadeh. She could be Hannah or S, waiting for the prophet.
The breeze from Lake michigan began to stir the night.
Back in my studio apartment phone calls, emails and messages buzzed. It rained here. She said it rained over there too. The night and day were strangely enigmatic to let ourselves pass it over.
Here is to the walks in soliloquy and the love of my life, the five disjunct stanzas:
Hannah loved her prophet
from a distance so far that
her love was a kind that
propped the stairway to heaven.
Poplars remember our love
sometimes cut between
weed grown fences and the backyard
time wept and rotted.
My desire has the wings of a sad albatross
on its solitary flight across
windswept islands and seven seas.
Your love makes this life lighter
so light that things stay afloat
about me and this world.
You and me - the space in between,
thinking of life. love is like night rain
we pass over it by sleep.
- Spring 2000
6 comments:
wow, that was beautiful!
"It rained here. She said it rained over there too. The night and day were strangely enigmatic to let ourselves pass it over...."
very nice...
"Lake michigan was like a huge drop of tear that fell ever so slowly as if time was suspended for a while..."
loved those lines....and the tinge of pain beneath 'em!
enig!
thanks for reposting this Raja!!
beautiful lines!! :-))
man...i loved this post...there is a melancholic air to the whole post that i really liked...:-)
enig, Chay and buck. Thanks.
yeah it was a sweet melancholic air in chicago back then.
Raja
"Your love makes this life lighter
so light that things stay afloat
about me and this world."
That is beautiful indeed!!!!
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