1. The phrenologist never slept,
But he had other means.
Twelve times a Night
He shaved,
Then Roamed.

“Thank God,”
He thought
“The Five take our young
And give us the Garden.”

2. Eliza never looked past-
not past the ugly thing.

Three times she panicked
but the stained glass lenses
hardly constituted a proper pass.

She wondered where she would be
thirteen years from now

Fifteen years later
she wrote to her cousin,
the earl,
“No Homonculi allowed in the Ash Tree Garden”
and that seemed to fit.

3. They told him
that there used to be eight

sometimes one would drop off.

Then there was argument

but the missing member would usually turn up
Or someone who would suffice.

Three of them, though
fought over the elder on the ice.

There ARE some sins,
they told him,
that can’t be atoned for.

We’re down three.
Would you like some water?

4. A kid
he was a kid
older
then he was older
or younger

Mike, Mike, Mike
they would call
& often he would listen

Sometimes there was only the pool
and the bottom sometime glistened

5. “Verlinsky & Collaborators”
(intaglio in wood,
a Dickens sign)
swayed beneath its chains.

The line was longer on Saturdays
and we would play vendors
& sell water to the waiting.

“I don’t get it, guys, I don’t get it”
Aidan sobbed today.
So he sold no water.

6. “It is applied when patients do not wish to know their status but want to ensure that they have offspring free of..”

“I’ve got six hours, we can go to the hill” Mike said to me

“This procedure can place practitioners in questionable ethical situations…….”

The speaker was booed
and after
we drank champagne behind the podium

7. When the teacher got weary
When he thought that he should teach
them more than what was required
more than the Sassanids,
his wife would cheer him up.

She was elegant and eloquent.
They met at a beach.

“We met at no such place”
his wife told Helen.

But, all in all, the coast there
really is magnificent.

8. The burg was constructed in 1324 by the Grafen von Schwarzburg.
By the 16th century the burg was no longer in use and began to decay.
In 1856 the first restoration of the walls began.
In 1912 the Burg was sold and converted into an inn.
Today it is a private residence.

9. When Father was away on business
the pool would be closed.

He tried to tell Aidan.
You can still see it if you close your eyes
The water and the blue is in you Aid

Aidan didn’t like the pool,
not as much.

He remembered a March afternoon
when someone had bled into it.

And the red and growing clouds
reminded him of another March afternoon

That was a dream, Mike told him.
& that day they sold water at half-price.

10. The uprising broke out in Svaneti
Eliza knew a barn and some stone fences
and made it back.

Mr. March welcomed her into his home
and showed her his collection
of Renaissance Bronze.

“When we were younger”
March asked
“Did you ever go past it?”

She asked him the same, intuited the answer, and added:
“are the eyes really…does it really happen?”

He ate some bread
and they watched
their mutual friend, Michel’s, latest film.
The acting was good.

I remember that morning vividly
Vividly in a vague way
the way that you continually apply new meanings to memories and dreams

It is laundry day
I stumble out of bed, trying to recollect
the details of the night before
I feel around the floor
in a cursory scan for something to put on, and I come out
with a stale-smelling pair of pants, a ripped t-shirt,
and NO underwear
THIS is how I deduce
that it is laundry day

I had something to do that morning
some meeting to attend or errand to run
I don’t know, I felt I was in a rush

I hurriedly reach under the chest-of-drawers in the corner
in hopes of finding some socks still flexible enough
to fit on a foot
and I find one
a black one with a grey stripe
and as I look up from my search my glazed gaze grazes
the the cluster of clutter atop the desk
and falls on your flower
a single rose stuck in an old jar
I stop and stare all starry-eyed
the rose you plucked from a garden we walked by
and handed to me in such an off-handed manner
I sit entranced by the gift you so shruggingly gave

I fall INto the flower
I penetrate it’s center
let it’s presence enter me
the petals seem to slowly circle inward towards infinity
the deep *Passionate* color of blood
the slightly frayed edges of this blossOM evoke images of you
the hue of your lips, the light in your soulful eyes
the curves of your hips and the secrets I imagine nestled inside them
I want to bathe in your flowery scent
I want to taste your fresh fruit,
to feel the timid trickle of its sweet savory juice
to feast like an Olympian on your bodily nectars
to cover you three times in kisses, make it four for good measure
in the rose I see your face – I just want to touch it!
I must see you! I’m flushed and blushing my heart rushes!

I hurry out the door without a moment’s further consideration
I scurry down the stairs thoughtlessly and hit the pavement
I wordlessly drift down the street in a blissful haze of desire
and breathless I appear and your front stoop
and ring the bell

You appear in a beam of radiance and beauty
and you look at me confused, your head cocked to one side slightly
A wave of bashful self-awareness floods my sight
as I look down at my shabby wardrobe
and the black sock with grey stripe
that I still grip stiffly in my left fist

Bewildered, I hold it up
“Here,” I said, “I found this for you…”

by Peter Hazen