Paradise
This lonely tree
Is the forbidden one
That drinks from
The sparkling river of life
And gets energised by the sun.
It’s leaves are shaped like
Beads of wisdom
And, deeper than the green
It stands on,
It offers us what we need from life;
To know.
- February 1999
This was written on the train between Famalicão and Braga. I had a period of writing poems where the form was defined by the duration of this journey, which is a journey that I really love. 25 mins duration, beautiful minho landscape, and sexy passengers to dream about when neglected by the muse. I would write the poem, in a frenzy, during the train ride. And then polish it up at home afterwards. So, condensed energy. That was the form. The subject is Song. Of course.
Song, where are you?
Are you the morning melody on the tip of a blackbird’s tongue?
Are you the happiness that fills a silent room?
Where do you wait song, when I wait for you?
Song, you are ancestor, deep and wide.
The ancient sound of suffering confronting joy;
You are as vast as Notre Dame.
You are a choir in the Sistine chapel,
Hold the history of ancient Greece and ancient Rome in your soul,
Sing the Lord in polyphonic refrain.
You are Apollo full of grace and light!
You are the Velvet Underground and John Cale’s viola,
The strange tale of Waldo Jeffers and The Gift,
The Memory of a Free Festival.
You are Orpheus stilling the Gods.
You were my consolation in teenage heartbreak,
You made my mother so happy when you returned to my bedroom!
The weeks of silence renounced, my turntable started spinning:
Be my woman girl; I’ll be your man
Be my woman girl; I’ll be your man
Be my woman girl; I’ll be your man
Every Sunday dollar in your hand…
Song, I love you.
I love your A-sides which are like the conscious mind and hit bound,
And the unconscious world of the B-side, all art and experimental;
The workshop and soul of the A.
Song you are magic!!
You are trance lost to the glory of the stars!!
Incantation, the loop of Om, plainsong;
A vehicle to transport the soul from dark to light.
Song! You are aural alchemy, seduction and desire:
You are Marilyn Monroe in her prime
Naked through chiffon, impossibly perfect.
You are rail-tracks and hobos,
Freight trains and stories of hardship and loss:
Come to me song, embrace me now
Take me into your power, transform me,
I’m ready to walk into the deep lucid mind of song
I’m ready now song
I’m coming home to you, song,
I’m coming home.