Harbour Mystery Suite

a ship is in the harbour

I can see the lights on all that is just

another world

a piano player

improvises intervals and cycles

to outline

a story

in one time

or another

I eat

a Mozartkugel

*

round

is the chocolate ball

nougat the plastic layer

green marzipan

the core

*

the reel

rewinds

the biplane pieces gather

and rise out and up

from the reassembling barn

the long white scarf

defies aerodynamics

the lion leaps hind first

through the burning hoop

the projection surface is unbound from purpose

until the tender scene

plays

and we remain

coincidental

our features

cast in bleak flickers

and we examine

in common solitude

the momentary images of ungraceful love

the close-up and pull out

the disengagement of embrace

eyes opening

to hypnotic moonlight

mouths pulling in tongues

then closing

shadows crossing brows

the abrupt clumsiness of lovers

in an oddball attempt

to put each other's clothes

back on

to do that last button

to straighten a tuft of hair

to push each other away

to retreat from the room

through separate doors

*

knowing what they say

we can now discuss

the jalapeno in the barbecue sauce

that smokes over L.A.

or I can describe a laker

about to accept a tug

about to drop freight

at the dock in my solitude

while Monk

plays Ellington

in another time

and the past as reference

gains common meaning

in what they say

*

we must know

what we mean

when we speak

for the record

so we may replay later

the original

*

there is a beginning

to all things

study

upon study

proves

that we are the continuing meter

counting the measure

in a world that allows

sunsets to be erased

that allows the night

to be replaced

by great stadia light
that allows us to catch sight

of arcing spit

and that heroic

out-to-the-horizon gaze

of the manager in the dugout

*

I am nothing but a hound dog

my nose to the ground

sniffing out

what is best

for me

a deceitful scoundrel

prying loose

the easy coins

a simple matter of mint

the mock arrest of time

the handy proof of value

the confident twirl

the forefinger glide
the resounding skid of the coin

now dead under the slap of a palm

on the other side of the waxed wood counter

the muted finale of an exchange

ending the magic moment of buying a drink

*

we might think of this jazz

as a country muzac

for the cowboy ears of sophistication

internal thunder

with a will of its own

sets the tremor in me

that shakes the landed

and is heard by those at sea

*

once

out of the bar

the late downtown scene

leans like a rude cardboard model

you step into the alley

and someone gives you some sticks

you hear a horn playing

the end of a love affair

you stagger

down to the docks

*

how do you know

that bump you feel under the wheel

is just a flaw in the road

how do you know

if what I say is due payment

for the information you provide

how do you know

when you forget

and I remember

*
betrayal

in the one

last look

it

glares from the dark knowledge

in the alcove of the nightclub door

in the eyes of the dead

oh friend

what in life

do you know more

than the final curtain

now drawing

in time to end

this divine score

*

I am dead in your look

and alive in times to come

I stand solo

and feel the accusing finger

I am ready to dance

to be undone

by the bullet rhythm

that glances the starlit dust

on lonely street

stretching underfoot

the heartbreak

steady

in the palm

on the drum

*

a ship is in the harbour

I can see the lights on all that is just

another world

intervals and cycles

outline

a story

in one time

or another

a sharp repeat

might be the echo of gunfire

too late to report