Klingsor's Garden
The park at the city's center
they call
Ann
an
das
A blasphemy, or at least
questionably dry humor
Come on
you can be Kundry
the flowers all gone white and grey
in the hours
when the stars ride high
I'll even let you succeed
where your namesake failed
I'll fall
letting drop
the moon coin
and falling
Through ordered birches
tall, straight
ghostly hallway
moon, moon, moon
moon, moon
moon, moon, moon
moon
moon
fall into my hand
all the rest
will follow
Boats in the shape
of great birds
ply the artificial waters
Sweaty
bicycle-taut leg muscles
keeping the paddles
whirring
round and round
the circuit
Real ducks
follow in their wake
handouts
having replaced foraging
in this part of the world
Hard to imagine
anyone ever falling out
but even if they did
they'd find
that the shallow-bottomed craft
slip over little more
than a well-groomed puddle
not even
much of an illusion
of depth
lined at the bottom
with muck, willow leaves
duckshit, and ten thousand
grimed forlorn coins
wasted in wishing
The park at the city's center
they call
Ann
an
das
A blasphemy, or at least
questionably dry humor
Come on
you can be Kundry
the flowers all gone white and grey
in the hours
when the stars ride high
I'll even let you succeed
where your namesake failed
I'll fall
letting drop
the moon coin
and falling
Through ordered birches
tall, straight
ghostly hallway
moon, moon, moon
moon, moon
moon, moon, moon
moon
moon
fall into my hand
all the rest
will follow
Boats in the shape
of great birds
ply the artificial waters
Sweaty
bicycle-taut leg muscles
keeping the paddles
whirring
round and round
the circuit
Real ducks
follow in their wake
handouts
having replaced foraging
in this part of the world
Hard to imagine
anyone ever falling out
but even if they did
they'd find
that the shallow-bottomed craft
slip over little more
than a well-groomed puddle
not even
much of an illusion
of depth
lined at the bottom
with muck, willow leaves
duckshit, and ten thousand
grimed forlorn coins
wasted in wishing
Nepenthe hold me
Nepenthe take me
I'm down on my luck
officer
I know where the shelter is
I tried that
Two guys rolled me
for the nickels in my pants
I just like lying under a tree
that's all
settled in the grass
you know
All right
all right
sorry
sir
Talas owns the starlight
and I haven't any nickels left
to pay
In the daylight
the dirty hands reach out
toward passers-by
with this plea
that plea
All right,
here's a little something for you
(Bless you, bless you)
Come along now
don't stare, yes, I see
there's
something wrong with him
but it will make him feel bad
if you stare
Come on along
look at the boys
playing ball there
He's hit it right over
into the rose bushes
Talas, final architect
of all Gromagon's environs
goes to his park
only on winter's
coldest nights
eyes frosted
shadow figure
leaning against
a leafless tree
under fierce Orion
and a moon
finely etched and stamped
close enough to touch
Copyright 2004 Malcolm Deeley
Nepenthe take me
I'm down on my luck
officer
I know where the shelter is
I tried that
Two guys rolled me
for the nickels in my pants
I just like lying under a tree
that's all
settled in the grass
you know
All right
all right
sorry
sir
Talas owns the starlight
and I haven't any nickels left
to pay
In the daylight
the dirty hands reach out
toward passers-by
with this plea
that plea
All right,
here's a little something for you
(Bless you, bless you)
Come along now
don't stare, yes, I see
there's
something wrong with him
but it will make him feel bad
if you stare
Come on along
look at the boys
playing ball there
He's hit it right over
into the rose bushes
Talas, final architect
of all Gromagon's environs
goes to his park
only on winter's
coldest nights
eyes frosted
shadow figure
leaning against
a leafless tree
under fierce Orion
and a moon
finely etched and stamped
close enough to touch
Copyright 2004 Malcolm Deeley
Paintings Copyright 2006 Marge Simon
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