CAMUS ON HOLIDAY
(on reading Camus American Journal 1946-49)
all over your boat
you’re a traveller
you’re a breath
from Marseille to Rio
Atlantis below you, Atlantic above
you read of endless loneliness
each knot tugs your heart at full tilt
words fall from your eyes
splash on blue darkness
writing their obscure story
in seconds
on dolphins
you throw out a song written for another
when love tasted like youth, red like wine
closed eyes dream of Algeria, Sahara a devourer
under crescent stars weaving through sand storms
you lean back against softest chair, seagulls pass
carrying ocean air, ocean rain in their memory
wings flap in sight, flap away time
is this mortality? has the muse become a siren?
escape becomes a living idea but you wait
where three or more are gathered you’re not there
waves hit the side of the ship, Irish jig floats up from third class
hand trembles writing one last sentence under shadow.
No comments:
Post a Comment