by Jeffrey Burghauser (January 2020)
Irinaland Over the Balkans, Friedensreich Hundertwasser, 1971
And the adolescent rested with his date
On a boulder in the bosom of the dark,
Sylvan valley: she, attempting to create
A romantic mood, and he, sapric as peat,
Sobbing, hyperventilating over stark-
Seeming sounds: stark since engendered by a thing
As substantial as a heaving patriarch,
But attentive, full of cautious reckoning.
Or observe that toddlers know that every pitch
Of emotion has a music of its own,
Though they suffer difficulty telling which
Words may be those fitting to a given tone.
Hamlet didn’t gather the entire point:
It isn’t just the time that’s out of joint.
626 The Way to You, Friedensreich Hundertwasser, 1966
Smoking, windows opened, in your mother’s plum-
Colored Volvo, singing, and, at giddy rate,
Bending through the dampened forest sodium-
Vapor lanterns manage to domesticate.
What an odd phenomenon is the Best Friend
As beheld from full adulthood’s diocese.
Yes, I must still love you: while I comprehend
Retrospect’s unhealthy constitution, these
Recollections give me feelings that become
Like those sweet, oblique-to-thought, unsure-to-sense
Feelings upon finding you’ve transláted some
Foreign lullaby with eerie competence.
Friend, the sweetest grade of memory belongs
Not to perfect poems, but to trashy songs.
Jeffrey Burghauser is a teacher in Columbus, OH. He was educated at SUNY-Buffalo and the University of Leeds. He currently studies the five-string banjo with a focus on pre-WWII picking styles. A former artist-in-residence at the Arad Arts Project (Israel), his poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in Appalachian Journal, Fearsome Critters, Iceview, Lehrhaus, and New English Review. Jeffrey’s book-length collection, Real Poems, is available on Amazon and his website is www.jeffreyburghauser.com.
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