Poems

Eliot Greenspan

I plead amnesia to the drag
Of the tired states of the Americas
And to the Republics which Might commands
Many nations, far from God
Nearly invisible
With Structural Adjustments
And genocide for the Poor

                   Eugenia laughs
dances to su propio rhythm
                     puts on lotion

foot flicking sand

distant hills show dry ridges

Tom tells me, "in
il nuovo mundi

the waves will
come in Alexandrine
Trochee..."

something like that, or
the whole group
takes off

leaning forward towards

the shore

all

baffling combustions
& stumbling grace

my dreams get younger
                       Eugenia laughs

poking gingerly round
open wounds &
long losts

not taking the initiative
lose the impetus
these are my just deserts

jealousy
waits for us
in the lobby

tables are turned
you roll my "r"s

more of the same

3 polaroids are a fat man's
revenge

waves along the Malecón
y tengo testigos

little walks let rest, books
to read and books I've read

a solitary fan stands
like a spinning eye

or the left outer engine
of the four prop plane

that brought us together

--Yemayá
      a Northeast wind
            this same sun

a rooster crows in time & tune
to the neighbor's TV afternoon

golondrina is your eyebrows
and other birds come around

hard to heed
all the signs
        displace nature
               and throw the coins

a Dutch tourist climbs
steep steps

soft grass covers
crumbled buildings

I trade whistles
with an orange & black tanager
               as aguaceros pass

I have nothing for you
I leave tomorrow

just a rainbow over the ruins
and these flowers from Tulum

in the heavy heat
and strong sweat

stuck in the
tight weave
of a Yucatan
hammock

no strength to move
so slip into yet
another sueño

as kids play in puddles
outside

once again
El Caribe
has stopped
      and stolen
                       me

mesmerized by the pace
light mixing clouds

and this unimaginable
sea
of blues & greens

after 10 years I
find the shells
on the beach
as I left them

the curve of your lips
pulled back over teeth
smiling

The shadows
Of too many nights of love
Have fallen beneath your eyes.
        Langston Hughes, "Soledad"

to have come all this way
       waited so long
                 and still

to confront
         such arcane
                 cultural architecture

these are vagrant times

the dark doesn't call
or invite
one wants it

on these ancient
streets
almost unchanged

waiting for the guagua
a soft guaguancó
waves against the Malecón

[1]From Map of You, Map of Me
Selva Editions
2737 Kalmia Ave Boulder, CO 80304 USA