Remembering Bruce Choppin
1
I learned from Google that Bruce was dead
He died in nineteen eighty three in Chile
"in problematic circumstances"[i]
on his way to a job in Singapore
I took over his apartment
on Morningside Drive
after he left New York
one evening a girl came by
to retrieve some stuff
but she took one look
went off in a huff
some parting jest?
I never asked
2
The Girl In New York
She was Lebanese clever strongly made
I with important “work” and a big
head
words woven in harmonious brocade
won’t bring her back to life-for
she is dead
she killed herself and since I was
obtuse
I’ve felt regret all through these
busy years
for we met for coffee - talk
was no use
I know now at an age when all
coheres
when I heard she was dead I was
shamed
I’d sensed her despair but did not
reach out
gave nothing of myself though as yet unclaimed
except by ambition and nagging
doubt
She is dead beyond questions beyond love
my work! so what was I so afraid of?
3
Images
oil paint
a trembling mare
a field of corn
a crimson scythe
a stallion
stars swoop down to tongue
Lethe
a dark river
white cliffs
tongue flicks
her liquid image
her dewdrop
now an iron foundry
a din of words
& candlelight
Ladies
I know you ladies
tail thumper run
run white scud
2 wolves
a big double bed
sunlight
& still the sunlight
4
New York
now that the sun
lies in the avenues
shadows move the streets
this heat has become an emotion
of
pillars
pillars
cloying
misted
pillars
tiles
steam
the heat dampens impulse
an opulent belly bejeweled with
droplets of
shower
the bowl of the lavatory is a
misted image
this heat
this heat
feels
as fingers in the vulva
this heat
melds the edges of
sex
go only
goes only
with
the beat of the humid
heat
& the flop
wet kneed
to sleep
© Dick Russell, 2013
