The Rain, the Park (& other things)

Stan Rogal

 

 

 

knew I had to say hello [hello, hello]
droning a drowsy syncopated tune
speech impregnated with a rhetoric absorbed through the airwaves
to lighten. make light of. to arouse elation, buoyant ascension
[insert here the aleatory decay of sound]
I mean, in terms of describing love or longing or libido
          what does each look like?
                     what shape, what colour?

                            what coarse wale of warp & weft?
if text is the electricity that moves the body from one thing to another
what are the results of being relentlessly specific?
literally momentary?
all the parts are more like plumbing fixtures
than pieces of a poem
a clear example of “songs & dances of social allusion”
that is: music which however danceable & “swinging”
                    remorselessly contrasts social imperfections
                               against implied criteria for perfect living
well, why didn’t you just say so?
suddenly, the sun broke through [hello, hello]
pussy willows big, their tops above water
green & red leaves flat against the branches
whatever it was she was wearing — poof! — gone
was she reality or just a dream to me? [hello, hello]
object dissolves into a field of loose relations
flowers in her hair, flowers everywhere
at the point of ceremonial sex (no touching, no tongue) 

we stand starkly naked at the edge, singing

 

 

 

Stan Rogal: I live and write in Toronto. Work has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies in Canada, the US and Europe. The author of 26 books: 7 novels (most recent, The Comic, Guernica Editions), 7 story and 12 poetry collections, plus several chapbooks. I'm a Pisces, which pretty much explains it.