the pen
is a vision       of fantasies
whenever there is       a break
in       the boredom of
housewives &       over-
achievers       they may
sink into these       lands
of ink       where their impulses
cannot carry       them

      i have never
been a       fantasy but i've
been a foreigner       for
many       many years

      those places
at the edge       of what we
know       are not depicted in
disneyland       for those who
cannot quote       kierkegaard
but       i guess they have
fantasies too       of what
others       enjoy who       can
quote kierkegaard       at parties
& make       love on top of
elevators & rooftops & kayaks

      some women
who       do not come & go
feel that the penis       is
a foreigner       without
entry-rights into       their
bodies       but michelangelo
was a catholic       who cast
a jewish       hero into marble
& david was       a holy man
who had urges       mad urges
that ended       in a woman's amnesty

      off-limits:
religious jokes       the clitoris
on alternate       tuesdays
the       third rail during thunderstorms
& many times       the thoughts
that pop into       my head
during subway rides & family vacations

      i have been
a frontier       for many men
who have also       been
reluctant to cross
& still i cry when       these
foreigners leave       my body
for       fresher lands
across the yellow sea

      like a dancer
lost       in the motion
of her leaping       i settle
into this night       of resignation
viewing       dreams & thoughts
etched into these       pages of
my mind       these ledgers
of lost lands & strangers

      crushing
the past       i can see an elevator
climbing through the clouds
& on sunny       days
there       is an indescribable warmth
reaching certain       tenement rooftops
in the city       & think of all
the places       one can go
if       only we had       each other
a bag of chips & a kayak...

14 August 1993

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