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Famous Reporter # 34
 

 

 

SHANE MCCAULEY

                                        two poems


                   

  Fallen Leaves on Lake Chuzenji

At first as if a school of red fish
on blue pointed apices
the to-ing and fro-ing wavelets
of this almost breathing lake
 
but the trees are naked and flame
saturated leaves are writing
themselves upon the slate of water,
the sun bowing low to read:
 
kanji burnt red – an entire
season gathers here
to celebrate, and to drown.
 

 

         Jazz at the Villa Celimontana
Candles dance among the pines
as notes from a saxophone strike
the stars; a Renaissance garden
settles quietly in its practised leaves.
 
Jagged music staggers out in a roar
over quadrilles of trees, meteors
splash against the night like rain
on hot black pavement, extinguished.
 
Conceal, says the heart, what the jazz
might find: chance to cancel
what might yet heal, that love is a lie
that only the lips can feel.
 

 

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