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poem for February
fucking Thom Gunn
(in a canary Dodge at Union Square, after a tough dinner-party in Haight-Ashbury)
Will it be leather and looks, the cow and its eye,
that bring him, fresh from two baths,
to the unsheathed light ?
Improvised forms remain,
mirrored in sleep,
the same dealers' second hand,
twinned with interest opposite.
Fuck and sleep, glued at the hip,
or a casual finger lighted on a lip,
This is a long night,
exhausting our attention.
'Leave me unclaimed,' I said.
'Asshole, I am clean of you.'
What shall we do ?
I get up suddenly.
My shoulders roll, tucked down ;
my plastic current of jacket under the moon.
'Maxie comes from Omaha.'
'You will be my constant star.
Let's ride the Dodge to Union Square.
Let me fuck you. Leave me there.'
We roar on Fell.
Dust unwinds in the windless air.
There is a tender silence
on his tight-lipped ignorance.
('Can I master what is self-contained.
Poems with the solemn concentration of ice ;
and sex the strength of silence.')
Outside our rolled-up windows
the New Year's Party of drunks,
cops, lunatics, whores, tramps and crazies
blasted with inadvertence,
silent to us.
And silent too inside, though meaning much,
he zipped apart my jeans, and ran his touch
along my Macy's pants, from which he plucked
my act-forbearing penis, which he sucked.
Mouths palmed on the steam windows.
Fireworks like men, mutely exploding.
Screaming, falling, dancing.
Tongueless puppets. Satellites adrift.
The seat fell without a soundtrack.
I arched touchpaper not to smile
and he slipped inside me, face to face.
'And now, if love is love,' he did not say,
'I have you. And beyond this quiet bed,
which bears our sexed resemblance to the dead,
my poems sing alone across the Bay.'
He fell from the Dodge
with a sudden shout that was everything else,
all the year,
all the statues,
all the small yards,
all the greasy corners,
all the methamphetamine,
all the lover-signed balloons,
all the good-looking moments,
all the teeth lit with neon,
all the flabby stomachs,
all the cats and dogs,
all the boudoir bars,
all the safe skin,
all the paper,
and slammed the door.
I hurled away like a solitary star from his night,
into the city's darkness, and left him light.
(Written after, upon the rocks at Malin Head)
Broadsheet 8 (new newzealand poetry) - November 2011
featuring all seven 'Pacifictions', and a cover photo.
Edited by Mark Pirie (The Night Press, Wellington)
find and buy and/or look at http://broadsheetnz.wordpress.com
'Fucking Poets' :
Sold Out : 0 copies left !
Limited Edition of 'Fucking Poets', published by Cold Hub Press (New Zealand).
3 volumes of close encounters with famous poets, from Eadbert (a 'Beowulf' poet) to Thom Gunn, and including Alfred Noyes, Spenser, Shakespeare, Flecker, Stephen Duck, Marlowe, Chatterton, Peacock, Wilfred Owen and 19 more.
Hours of merry obscenity in a beautiful edition, limited to 60. Sold out.
All money has gone to Cold Hub Press to regroup after the Christchurch Earthquake.
Contact : john.gallas@ntlworld.com
Go to the BUZZ page for details and Flyer.
(Mild Obscenity Warning)
John Gallas books to come :
2011: Fucking Poets. 30 long poems of merry obscenity, close encounters with Shakespeare, Spenser, Duck, Flecker, Noyes, Fitzgerald, Thom Gunn, Chatterton, Shelley, Eadbert, Layamon, Ossian and many more. See above to Subscribe to the 3 volume limited edition.
2012 : Fresh Air & the Story of Molecule (poems written while walking /
the story of a 12 year old NZer escaping Evolution, all in sonnets)(Carcanet). Now available to order at www.carcanet.co.uk
2013 : 52 Euros (translations of European poets, 26 male (A-Z)
and 26 female (A-Z) (Carcanet)
Work in progress :
1. 'newzealand' : a prose-poem, 1st section published in 'SPORT' (ed Fergus Barrowman, NZ)
2. 'The Little Sublime Comedy' : Complete Dante as done by JG, with New Morality. Guided by Samuel Beckett, our wobbly hero explores the geography and human contents of The Bad Place, The Better Place, and The Good Place.
3. 'BUSH' : a New Zealand poetic novel. Murder, gold, revenge, gold, burnings, gold, treachery, treasure maps and gold in the South Island (reached page 94)
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