George Kalamaras
3 poems
**
An Enlarged Accent of Myself
Then there was the contemplation of the bird’s hallux.
Great crane migrations over the Ural Mountains summon what I reserve for
....my meditation cushion.
Thus, a descending riffle archeologizes daybreak steep as a mile-deep lake.
The Eurasian crane is a rare explication of my favorite poem.
Give me an expanse of frozen water, and I will cross it by foot.
Give me an enlarged accent of myself. I will transcribe the translation.
In Honshu-Prefecture, the red-crowned crane considers all wind-drafts the
....province of peace.
I once knew a man who photographed only Demoiselle cranes, believing them
....to be naked women.
Everyone’s logic was beyond the name of a remarkable attic.
I had another of those dreams. My wife and I had flown through the
....floorboards of foreign houses, covered with strangely-lit domicile dust.
**
A Dependent Compassion for Your Scar
I could change if my oblique self divulged a dependent compassion for your
....scar.
The raccoon family is back, gifting through my present state of trash.
I will contact the cartographer.
I will buy his supper with my bones.
We might voice a misplaced plea.
The fly in our soup may actually be part of the stew.
Sometimes a cigar is just now lit.
The smoke of what I thought you were thinking does indeed stink.
Mark my Freudian boundary with a word as delicious as terrera.
It must be clear to you that I would never eat another, all the days of our lives.
**
Parallel Paramecia
I have inherited a doll stare inhabited by a topical tongue.
Move me and my eyelids drop plastic blankets over glassy blue moons.
You understand what I mean when I say I love you.
It sounds, no doubt, like keep the cricket from developing the rain.
Prune the Latin phrase for parallel paramecia.
Dispensate a dollop of hard excavation.
Here’s the landscape I cannot religiouscize.
It’s not that I can’t adjust the volume.
It’s his girlfriend and it’s her weight problem.
But it is neither of these when she allows him to rub lemon balm on her
....shoulder while measuring the full cup size of her breast.
Hold the breath and draw a crude spasm of nuanced gravity.
I know it might feel new, but walk on it. Let me know what it’s like to fall
....through into a lusty sweetness of loving.
**
return to sawbuck 1.4
**
George Kalamaras is the author of five collections of poetry, the most recent of which are, Even the Java Sparrows Call Your Hair (Quale Press, 2004), Borders My Bent Toward (Pavement Saw Press, 2003), and The Theory and Function of Mangoes (Four Way Books, 2000). His sixth collection, Gold Carp Jack Fruit Mirrors, will appear from The Bitter Oleander Press in 2008. He is Professor of English at Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne, where he has taught since 1990.
**
An Enlarged Accent of Myself
Then there was the contemplation of the bird’s hallux.
Great crane migrations over the Ural Mountains summon what I reserve for
....my meditation cushion.
Thus, a descending riffle archeologizes daybreak steep as a mile-deep lake.
The Eurasian crane is a rare explication of my favorite poem.
Give me an expanse of frozen water, and I will cross it by foot.
Give me an enlarged accent of myself. I will transcribe the translation.
In Honshu-Prefecture, the red-crowned crane considers all wind-drafts the
....province of peace.
I once knew a man who photographed only Demoiselle cranes, believing them
....to be naked women.
Everyone’s logic was beyond the name of a remarkable attic.
I had another of those dreams. My wife and I had flown through the
....floorboards of foreign houses, covered with strangely-lit domicile dust.
**
A Dependent Compassion for Your Scar
I could change if my oblique self divulged a dependent compassion for your
....scar.
The raccoon family is back, gifting through my present state of trash.
I will contact the cartographer.
I will buy his supper with my bones.
We might voice a misplaced plea.
The fly in our soup may actually be part of the stew.
Sometimes a cigar is just now lit.
The smoke of what I thought you were thinking does indeed stink.
Mark my Freudian boundary with a word as delicious as terrera.
It must be clear to you that I would never eat another, all the days of our lives.
**
Parallel Paramecia
I have inherited a doll stare inhabited by a topical tongue.
Move me and my eyelids drop plastic blankets over glassy blue moons.
You understand what I mean when I say I love you.
It sounds, no doubt, like keep the cricket from developing the rain.
Prune the Latin phrase for parallel paramecia.
Dispensate a dollop of hard excavation.
Here’s the landscape I cannot religiouscize.
It’s not that I can’t adjust the volume.
It’s his girlfriend and it’s her weight problem.
But it is neither of these when she allows him to rub lemon balm on her
....shoulder while measuring the full cup size of her breast.
Hold the breath and draw a crude spasm of nuanced gravity.
I know it might feel new, but walk on it. Let me know what it’s like to fall
....through into a lusty sweetness of loving.
**
return to sawbuck 1.4
**
George Kalamaras is the author of five collections of poetry, the most recent of which are, Even the Java Sparrows Call Your Hair (Quale Press, 2004), Borders My Bent Toward (Pavement Saw Press, 2003), and The Theory and Function of Mangoes (Four Way Books, 2000). His sixth collection, Gold Carp Jack Fruit Mirrors, will appear from The Bitter Oleander Press in 2008. He is Professor of English at Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne, where he has taught since 1990.
