By Oliver Benjamin
Amazon women cut off their breast,
That they might pull the bow the best,
And slay the rogues, before whom, undressed,
They likely languished unmolest.
"There�s no treasure here, the chest is spare,"
Hirsute barbarian soon declares,
Then, shot right through, his heart too, laid bare
Learns to rue the sex more fair.
A laying down of arms might have repaired
This wound that cleaves from him to her.
Now quiet and sweet, his constant stare
Beguiles her fingers through his hair.
***
"The Asian Mariner"
By Oliver Benjamin
Albatross my friend, come hither, come close.
Most loyal of birds, your desperate hunger,
Safeguards my boat as we search for the coast,
Of royal green land, gold, silver and amber.
Lonely at sea, lonely are we,
My crew of the damned, hemmed in by salt water,
Could offer me up the highest of tea,
Not knowing that it is not this that I�m after.
Oh for a touch of your silky white feather,
Your wingspan could lighten the darkest of latitude,
But it goes against nature that we be together.
By what reckless design might I alter her attitude?
I think that Icarus touched the sky like a bird,
And so for that moment of terrific bliss
Shot hot through the heavens, as he tumbled back seaward
He laughed as he wept: No mean folly, this.
Now lifeless and flightless, I wear you around me,
Coilings of conscience, fates intertwined
Like fibers in roots twisting up through a dead sea,
Our journey is lost. You, gooney, are mine.
***
"Fault"
By Oliver Benjamin
On narrow lonely pass
I met the holy one at last,
The one that made
The only sun to shine.
I spoke my artful thesis
That he broke the pot to pieces
And wouldn�t deign
To make them recombine.
He said fissures made by sun and shade,
That tear the garden from the glade
Are not the whim
Nor will of things divine.
Vicissitudes of Nature
Tear the earthly musculature.
The fault is hers, he said,
My son, not mine.
So I moved next door to Nature,
Read her garden�s nomenclature.
She confessed her work
Was accident plus time.
But without the cataclysms
That rent my soul to schisms,
I�d have never tried to leave
The seas of slime.
So curse your kings and emperors,
She said, those thrones whose bloody wars,
Divide the earth
�Long arbitrary lines.
They scar me till I�m fallow,
Send whole races to the gallow.
The fault is theirs, my precious child,
Not mine.
So I stormed the castle of the king,
The one who split up everything.
He let this stranger
Accuse him and opine,
But argued, his protection
�Gainst savage predilection
Allowed the growth
Of culture and of mind.
Lay the blame upon your muse,
He said, that liquor so abused,
That to drink her
Men would tear their eyes out blind,
Curse their fellow man,
Lay waste upon the land,
The fault indeed is hers,
Good sir, not mine.
At last we came together,
My soul upon this treasure,
This music resolution
To a rhyme,
But she was cryptic so I cleaved her.
I cut her and bereaved her.
The earth tore open,
Flooded dark with brine.
Our rift was deep and storied,
Mountains laid ungloried,
I pulled her into echo
And decline,
In a bid to change the weather
I dreamt the world forever
Fell in the ocean;
The fault, erosion, mine.
But the split released the spirit,
Of the earth, and who revere it
Cultivate a science
Of the signed.
Signals to salvation,
On the byways of creation
Point in all directions;
Falls, ascensions, twined.
***
"There You Are"
By Oliver Benjamin
There you are.
Are you there?
Would you be you,
Without your hair?
Was younger you
When older you are?
How far would you go
To go very far?
You�ll go on a sally,
And drive your own car,
And walk through the valleys
In shadows of stars,
And sneak through the alleys
Of backstreet bazaars,
Heave ho on a galley
Set for Zanzibar.
(If you meet Rand McNally
Please send my regards.)
And then when you�ve wizened your pearls,
And done your mermaiding,
Come back to your world,
My girl masquerading
As a woman, unfurl,
And I�ll be there, waiting.
We�ll compare all our scars,
From fighting in wars,
Deposing the Czars,
And settling scores,
But you�ll still be you,
And I�ll still be me,
And wherever we are
There we will be.
***
"Letting It Leak"
By Oliver Benjamin
Like broken teapot pieces.
Cast upon on the floor.
We�d better stick together
If we want to drink some more.
Come take my hand and
Wrap it around your handle,
Press it to my body,
There won�t be a scandal.
When the spout is fast and ready,
And the past is finally prandial,
We�ll work together to heat the tea,
I will light the candle.
I�ve missed you since our fall,
Since love spilled off the table,
I�ve been kissing at the dried-up pools,
Genesising Cain and Abel,
Searching for the first edition,
Of our Chinese-whispered fable.
His truth goes marching on.
Truth. Go. March on.
These five poems are taken from "Abyssinia,"
which is available as a free download at his website