By Moonlight
A scream of moonlight from
a distant darkness
dissolving into fragments
of starlight falling ash
from a distant fire
the forests are burning again
as summer locks
these colors into place
and summer’s creatures are visible
reflecting gold like water
this breadth of water is
a breathing thing striped
by saplings and here is where
they congregate
in flowering clusters
a floral proliferation beneath
the nimble flight of swallow
beneath the full-throated
cry of hawk that
jettisons
the wind to search for prey
and here beneath the shrubbery
and bushes the delicate
quietness of mice or voles
that navigate from fire to
lake exposed
within the silence of the night.
Boy
Such a
boy... (the whisper said)
so beautiful
as if to kill
the rain
his theory
of redemption
(we overheard)
is a narrowing within
the limits of a field
is a pattern of only
listening
is the silence
of speech withheld
(seen once again his excess
of indifference
it shall not shake
these memories)
these
faded flowers from
gold
to paleness the ocean drab...
as silent
as a memory as gray
as
circumvention
where only
a crimson
splash can
hold its color into
the
dimming of the light
such a
boy (the whisper said)
trapped
inside the night.
From
the Heart of Nature
Listen everyone
the heart is cased
in metal
bands listen to me
I’m a
crimson line in the darkness
a slash of
visible heat I’m the water
that runs
down the surface of a mirror
I’m a
bouquet that merges invisible into
the
pattern of your blouse your cool
cotton
silk lace
your roses becoming lilac
*
* * *
* * *
but
now we no longer see each other
me in my
darkness and you in
the
overabundance of your garden do you
know who I
am talking to or are you lost
in
greenery fastened by vines and
pillowed
by
Hostas I’m returning back
to my
metal box away from your pollen
and
scent the ache of your jungle virtue.
When
Music Conquered Space
After the
porcelain days were over
all of the songs were laid out
end to end
it was an
unsuccessful attempt
to define the stain of melody
the time
was one of probabilities
but the technology
was found to be insufficient
when notes
peeled off
as smoke
disappearing
into the lowest
hanging clouds
where they
impersonated
the payot of angels
there was
a sense of innate vertigo
locked
into a set of patterns
that
intuitively spaced themselves
along the
parallel
the major
artery
that connected every chord
sequenced and chromatic
color
flooded everything
all directions boxed and empirical
as haze
encompassed
the anti-linearity
of the field
the
atmosphere had lost its purchase
on the inferior layers
senses merging
into a stew
of raw impressionism
it was
glass from every angle
a polished lucidity
a tonal refraction
that shattered
harmony
the songs
were soon released
winging their way
across
the empty
spaces
every
chord a synthesis of pure emotion
emerging
and re-merging as dimensionless
Liquid
Breath
The glass
enclosure that holds a flashing
brightness aquatic
and aflame
she wanted
a dog but the fish provides
a certain
happiness this nascent
family
that she learns to feed and to love
this
innocence this helplessness
twelve
years of age and wild as blood
ethereal
within her darkness still
holding a
certain simplicity she passes
unobserved a certain ambiguity
that shows
itself in the occasional smile
that hides
inside her bravery
there is a
hidden pain that steels her
into a
constant readiness braced
against a
lack of expectations she watches
the curls
and loops of the brilliant creature
its
incomparable stripes of blue and crimson
as it
silently sips the oxygen of life.
Poet and songwriter
Paul Ilechko is the author of three chapbooks, most recently “Pain Sections”
(Alien Buddha Press). His work has appeared in a variety of journals, including
The Night Heron Barks, Rogue Agent, Ethel, San Pedro River Review, Lullwater Review,
and Book of Matches. He lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ.
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