Six New Stanzons
(rooted in France)


'oh deal'

oh deal oh kneel the words
with which the stark-naked red-headed
woman stepped into the room where
in the middle we sat in a rocking-chair
(not the words expected from
 stark-naked red-headed women
 stepping through a doorway)

'you' - she addressed us - 'must be
related - incestuously related
possibly - from Whistler's mother
(the rocking-chair giving you away)
but it must be rather cramped
as well as precariously balanced
to make love in a chair like that
- incestuous love I presume -

my mother was French and hence
- my father was not and
O'Neil's hair is what you see on me
I am used to my bright red pubic
hair getting a stare when I make
my entrance - do not feel embarrassed
I don't - continue to make love
rock the chair - let me stare
I've come sightseeing as you'll have guessed'


'black on white'

the necrodil's black blooms
border the ancient field of honour
where nameless men laid down their
in honour of the schemes obscure
of men of state surviving them to write
their memoirs all beginning with
the words
the truth of the matter is
followed by such lies as victory
black on white necrodils blooming
on fields of new snow
with it will melt away the whitening
of heroes fallen as have the cowards
among them
death on a field of battle
honours cowards and heroes  as heroes
their bleached bones after a while
quite indistinguishable
among the necrodils in similarities
of black


'July 30'

I didn't know you had
it in you
in those words a grasshopper
addressed an absent acorn
its former presence represented
by a tiny trunk
reaching into the granite-based soil
with delicate roots
reaching into the universe's
lower reaches
with a silent explosion
a modest five leafs
two smaller lower down
three larger higher up
another slow explosion nearby
the flowering end of purple clover
the blooming head possibly
a multiple of three making a multitude
of individual bunched flowerlets
a bouquet held out as by
a lover to his love

granite molten fire from the earth back then
now the summer's day is turning slightly chilly


'hidden delight'

the sensation of a cheek kissed
so lightly that it seemed
a fantasy's fantasy
a butterfly's dream of petals
bright in a summer-sun's light
shouting in whispers of nectar
a kiss on the cheek
not the mouth no long
curly tongue come
to sip
no one there but the dogs
and me and the ferns and the grass
the flowers
a short while ago
where I walked in the shade
of bordering trees
a fist-sized green frog
jumped forward and sat quite still
basking in admiration
for its exquisite copper-green
it jumped once again
and was hidden


'veiled words'

a thin white night-shirt
imprinted with a pattern
of scattered forget-me-nots
light-blue stars in a cotton firmament
measured the length of what
was two-dimensional between
her shoulders and her knees
she reached for the hem of her
garment as soon as she spoke
and lifted the fabric to hang
down from arms held above
her head so that it covered
her face where before it had
covered her body and from
behind her improvised veil she
questioned seemingly apparent
certainties in asking how I could
be sure that the same face I'd
seen before she lifted her shift
would reappear when once again
she'd lower it to hide what was
now commanding my divided attention
sizing up speechless desires - faceless
as well permitting freedom to face
and to gaze without restraint as
seeing unseen does more to allow

mockery the message of her eyes
as she lifted her night-gown even higher
to take in the extent of my discomfort
stepping forward she blindfolded me
gently with what had covered her
body and face and hair scented with
all three a door creaked slightly enough
a lock clicked steps I heard none as
she left me standing barred from the
hallway where perhaps someone with
a different face but identical from
the neck down or who knows the other
way around the only certainty remaining
a flimsy memento a white cotton nightie
imprinted with a pattern of sprinkled
forget-me-nots and a memorable scent



and the tree and the tree and the tree
and the very first tree the very only
tree up and away it went flying
and the birds and the birds the many
birds the very only many birds
switched an s as wisely they went
from roost to roots roots left vacant
by the flighty tree before and below
the birds the birds their legs grew thick
as trunks their feathers reformed
unruffled rustled like the leafs they became

acorns for eggs their next swapping-act
for that was the Age of Oaks tweet tweet
the Era Robustica in robur rooted
and then and then and then and there
the oaks not all but some shed acorns
slipped their roots and went flying
away to settle afar as a copse of hazel
it seemed the world had gone nuts
tweet tweet the trees meow meow
the catkins  a birch in the lurch
a lark in the bark (hark hark) a screech
when a beech took flight to land
on a beach sand pebbles and shells
and little triangle-sided nuts as well
oh those trees oh those trees oh those trees

Levi Wagenmaker

If you have any comments on these stanzons,  Levi Wagenmaker would be pleased to hear them.