Sunday, 25 May 2025

Three Poems by Antonia Alexandra Klimenko

 






Not All There 
                       
 
I still look for the house 
at Clement and Third 
349 ?   349 ? 
Not here   Not here 
I can’t find the number 
but I remember the smell 
like an old dog
recalls the stench 
of summer—one night in hell 
 
I remember it well— 
the broken tunes 
the carnivalesque rooms— 
those yawning tents 
with their shades pulled down 
the dark wood floors 
the padlocked doors 
his Russian tea glass 
with its silver spoon 
 
Papa in the pantry shooting vodka— 
come dawning— 
Mama’s head--that swollen moon 
stuck out the window 
like a red balloon 
on a string 
of 
untold   
                longing
  


braces
  
i marvel  
that you never waited   for a push  
but came into this world  
                                         feet first  
(though hardly on the ground)  
summer  
i'd hang in loose air  
just to see  
                how high you could take me  
limbs thrusting upward  
your roots in the sky  
once in a while   you’d toss over  
to the cripple  in pantomime  
the smile you wore   between   my teeth  
as you watched me  watching you  
you were my straight man at 11  
and i suspect i was the same  
now you look for me in bandstands  
and corner bench engravings  
while i swing in my chains  
and sing to the sun
 


Before My Very Eyes


When i was a child   
I was a master of deception  
I lived for magic tricks --  
Pick a card any card   I'd say  
stacking the deck in my favour  
Always something up my sleeve  
while my own hand       
slipped through my fingers  
  
I was the light  
in my empty room  
(now you see me   
now you don’t)  
I borrowed time  
and never brought it back  
I predicted the future   
but lived in the past  
  
When i grew up  
i longed for what was real--  
no slight of hand or trickery--  
I longed   
to not know the outcome  
to be suspended in wonder  
to be a child again  
  
But who was i kidding?  
For as long as I could remember  
I knew when i was lying  
could see things   before they happened  
  
Each night     
I ‘d pray for a miracle –  
pray for something  anything   
that could neither fool   nor be explained--  
  
Each night     
I'd disappear inside my head   
Where did I go?  
How did He do that?  I'd marvel  
Each night I disappear   
behind that invisible curtain  
Each morning    i would reappear  
before my very eyes!






  

Antonia Alexandra Klimenko was first introduced on the BBC and to the literary world by the legendary James Meary Tambimuttu of Poetry London–-publisher of T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, Henry Miller and Bob Dylan, to name a few.  After his death, it was his friend, the late great Kathleen Raine, who took an interest in her writing and encouraged her to publish.  A nominee for the Pushcart Prize, The Best of the Net, and a former San Francisco Poetry Slam Champion, she is widely published. She has been a featured guest at Shakespeare & Company, on a number of occasions, as well as performed or read in other literary venues in the City of Light and elsewhere. Her work has appeared in (among others) XXI Century World Literature (in which she represents France), Jazz and Literature and Maintenant : Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art archived at New York’s Museum of Modern Art.

She is the recipient of two grants: one from Poets in Need, of which Michael (100 Thousand Poets for Change) Rothenberg is a co-founder; the second—the 2018 Generosity Award bestowed on her by Kathleen Spivack and Joseph Murray for her outstanding service to international writers through SpokenWord Paris where she is Poet in Residence. She is also Writer/Poet in Residence at The Creative Process. Her selected poems On the Way to Invisible was recently published by The Opiate Books and is now available. 

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