This Sunday morning a few days before I turn 63, I am sharing my favorite poem, a love poem that Thomas Robert Higginson wrot for me, “You Are the Corner of my eye”
In my romance Novel, “New Kiss Horizon” as ” A Trip to the Tienda”:
You are the corner of my eye
By Thomas Robert Higinson
You are my rent-a-poem
You are love jungle — Yoyo, hula hoop!
You are my closing costs
My plasma vibrator my single malt
You? You are my Tampa manatee
You are my Occupy
You are an eucalyptus octopus
And a haircut on an autumn day
Also submarine. Surreality check.
You you…! You YOU you!
That’s who. The Temple of Shenanigans,
AKA Shenanigan Temple.
The complete works. The leftovers.
You are what I’ve been waiting for
And now I’ll never wait anymore.
Dream baby, you are, and indefatigable,
That, too. And you are the cream in my coffee,
And you are the one, and you are my everything,
And you are everything I could hope for.
And still you are more, and still you keep coming,
You are coming like a river, like a torrent,
Like an all day-lollipop where every day is today.
You are the Castle of Doubt on the Plain of Forgetfulness.
You are one more and able to laugh it off.
My sunshine, that’s what you are.
A rocking chair and a band-aid. Violin castanets.
An elusive perfume. You are all history. You are
Breakfast and you are on your way and all
I can do is list, name, and hand out passports.
Because you are who you are in a way that is all
Your way and which, as a poet trying to set it down,
Failure, I am a failure in that you will always be
Something to me both bedrock and ineluctable,
A passion of opposition and an unchecked probity
Of Probability and yet a chemical formula not to be
Tested. The Higgs bosun, that’s it exactly. A gluon.
A ramshackle melody. A forgotten memory that
Never happened and when all is said and done,
Actually nothing was said and nothing was done.
That’s why I keep writing endlessly penning, because that’s
Who you are and when I stop, Surprise, you are
The surprise, you are the inching to the summit,
The chocolate razor, the tadpole’s pole and the
Gate to the Fields of the Lord. I sing you praises and
The answer is more like a light fog saxophone, a
Kingdom Come revelation, a hunch that blossoms
To birth a new species. An appointment for lunch.
Some nectar in a tube, a pillow. Like the new language you
Are, if I could write that I would, you in a race car,
A pendulum, a fire tower, a blimp. A pothole, narcissus,
An a capella cantabile, a big bucket of milk. I can run alongside
You but can’t keep up with you, your tapdancing
Shadow, your clothing made of earth and spit. But I know you
And when you wish me Happy Birthday I trade it for yours,
You not growing old, you everlasting, you infinity you.
I thought you’d like this photo that I took in Salem, MA As you probably know the Rev. Francis Higginson joined the Massachusetts Bay Company to form a “plantation” in New England. Higginson led a group of about 350 Puritan settlers (including many of his own congregation) on six ships from England to New England. His son, Rev. John Higginson was a leading investigator in the Salem witch trials of 1692–1693…oh, and there were others… Enjoy the pics.
(photo by Nancy Boutilier)
and here is the response poem I wrote to his poem, forhcoming in Black Renaissance Noir:
A First Response to “A Trip to the Tienda”[i]
for Thomas Robert Higginson
My alpha and omega poem
braided into my hair
that falls into the poem like breezes,
that falls into you
these bosons of alphabet
form my prom, my graduation,
valedictory address, where I live now, really
live, as if for the first time
my sense of direction, elevation
slow home-cooked meal
—poetry food —
indulgence, cure for every disease
including religion: church of me,
apron, radon shield,
spikes of hair, double helixes of braids,
words of the poem expand, latch
onto proteins of my hair, food poetry
chromosomes of a new child incubating
in margins: complete peptides
perfect matches, IDEAL genetic codes
pearls, apologies, endless apologies
to the fine poet who wrote this
for me, my doppelgänger —
my poetry food,
nourishment, sustenance, one-a-day,
one every day
each of your arms is a stanza,
each hair on your body is punctuation
:placing us together:
compass needles pointing to lovers,
science of poetry,
Thomas Higginson becoming true north
somehow resisting magnetic north
my gateway to bliss
kept for too long undercover.
is forever, and acted out religiously,
in a single windy city weekend
[i] Published, in slightly different form in Black Renaissance Noir
” edited by Quincy Troupe.
A little early for Valentine’s Day,
but here are the poems anyway; may they inspire you. I must say that I remain inspired by Thomas Robert’s poem. Always. And I am always Dream Baby. No matter what.
NEW KISS HORIZON LINKS:
Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:
Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:
Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:
Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:
Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book):
Vashti’s blog URL:
NKH Review by Thomas Robert Higginson”
“NKH is a miracle of consciousness in a body formed by the future.” —Thomas Robert Higginson
(he is a real man; not purely a prodcuct of dreams, even though I do dream about him. He is Dream-worthy material.)
NKH Review by Bhaskar Mukherjee:
“craft that blends courage, candor and pathos in such a marvelous way”