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a journal of literature & art

The Literary Review

Austin Alexis                    Featured Poet 

Issue 10              Page 2

The Vacation

Three weeks off from work

and I bathe in a luxury of time.

Hours now grow plentiful as the beard

streaming from Michelangelo’s Moses.

I am a prophet of leisure,

extolling its benefits and cures.

My job-life was a virus. Currently, I’m cured

of the tedium of long-lingering fevers.

My workweek was a disease I’m free from–

sigh!–even if only temporarily.

The novelty of stretched-out aimless bus rides

has become the norm of my days.

Peering out bus windows, I contemplate

life’s calm unspooling of activity.

Active at doing nothing, I’ve become

an expert extravagant procrastinator.

Procrastination gives me a chance

to watch lightbulbs attract busy gnats.

I’ve grown so used to the cloister

of my snug, solitude-filled life

I might never journey all the way

back to the world I’ve escaped from,

its jumble, muck and noise,

its girdle of obligations, constrictions.

And if I retire from all responsibilities,

will the world weep for my absence,

or will it neglect to even notice I’ve gone?

The Stream

cut through bush,

rumbled over rocks,

slendered itself

as it lunged

downward

among leafy odors,

over slight inclines

before forming

a pool

where a man

stripped off his shirt,

undid his jeans,

peeling into nudity

before he dived

into the spot

where the stream

waterfalled

into the pond-pool,

that watery motion,

the weed-fringed basin,

this whole scene 

teaching him

the stark power,

the unselfconscious authority

of the elemental.

© William C. Avedon: Reflection

Mind’s Eye

Ephemeral, haunting,

hovering in my heated thoughts:

the dream I can’t remember

yet won’t forget.

Teasing, animated in my mind’s stillness,

the chattering images glow

like wavy patterns of light

iridescent on wire mesh.

For three hours I tried

to lure the dream into focus.

Alert to my memory lapse,

even alarmed by it,

I attempted to resuscitate

the reverie that had died

the moment I shook myself

out of my sleep mode.

How could I pivot

back to that timeless realm

of valuable messages?–

those filmic slivers being mischievous

while also serious.

The dream was sealed, enveloped

in the aura of the unconscious.

The envelope of wakefulness blinded me.

Finally, I quit my attempt,

my futile floundering,

let my mind meander

back to mundane reality:

a bedroom with smudged windows

overlooking a fire escape

soiled by squirrel droppings.

Defeated, I let the dream

trot, promenade, sashay  

to where souls migrate

after we die.

Solitude

I.

Solitude unfolds, luxurious, like the universe.

Days of it follow days, unspooled from a source,

a mysterious core at the heart of time.

Exquisite is the word for this aloneness.

We can teach ourselves to revel in it,

the way ivy is trained

to thrive on a wall’s smooth stones.

II.

The people I miss in my solitude

are the persons I never got around to meeting.

I picture them peering through mist

to get a glimpse of me,

the way cherubs in Raphael, languidly attentive,

gaze through off-white clouds.

I sense them, my non-friend friends,

my non-lover lovers,

and wonder if I’m better off without them.

III.

No visitors today to the long horizontal

heaven of my apartment.

IV.

Silence soothes me like the aroma of eucalyptus,

heated, brewing–a tea for the soul.

Eucalyptus, dandelion, slippery elm:


                  they all speak to me

in quiet dialects.

At the moment, they’re the only company I want.

V.

Time to stare inward.

Sometimes this weighty introspection is just a job;

sometimes it’s a calling.

Detaching from life in order to track life down,

letting go of the world

in order to grasp its essence                                                                                          

is a task, as well as a joy.

Can I do it?

Can I endure this trek in the desert?

Forty days, forty nights:

the hours expect at least a dab of resistance.

I pull away.

An hour later, I lean into it.

I’m curious to discover

what hides in solitude’s corner.

What will be my first find? My second?

What turbulence will I stumble upon?

What easefulness?

Will there be warm, animal-fuzzy curatives?

I hope the healing I need will reside there,

the restfulness.

Maybe I’m afraid I’ll never pinpoint

what I’m searching for in this quiet:

not there, never was, never will be:

that diamond I try to conjure from epic silence.

On the other hand, that might not be true at all.

The jewel may very well exist in reclusiveness,

glittering in its rightness.

VI.

Something will click in introspection,

some thing, precious and nearly visible

like a bodily joint making its releasing sound.

Like a hidden sentiment.

Like a solution crashing in the distance

yet jolting my consciousness.

Hearing it, I’ll experience relief.

VII.

Oh, embrace aloneness.

Even limit the radio as company.

Like earless insects, be deaf to the world’s chatter.

Exhilaration exists in intimacy with one’s self.

VIII.

The moon is aware of willed loneliness,

being that it travels solo in the night sky.

Granted, it needs the sun

to help it keep sailing in its orbit.

But its best attribute is displayed

when it seems to glow from its own spotlight,

so that a viewer forgets all about

the other heavenly bodies

and concentrates on the single moon,

humming in luminous tranquility.

IX.

One lone hair from my eyebrow

falls to the bathroom basin,

stands out against the spotless porcelain–

a hermit separated from a tribe

and glad for his circumstances.

X.

Solitude, like friendship, deserves to be observed,

but beyond that: worshipped,

the way the sun was once bowed down to

by smart tribes

who knew its life-giving value,

sensed how it nourished and renewed.

To a Pandemic

I miss those beefy yelps

wafting through my window

from the daily nearby judo class.

The view from that same window

at another time of day

offered languid elegance of yoga limbs.

That treat, too, has gone;

I taste the bleakness of the blank studio. 

O pandemic, O austere one,

you have spread a glacier,

have rocketed away abundance.

Keep your subway cars with reduced ridership;

their novel cleanliness unnerves me.

Nowadays, department stores display

desert expanses; cinemas’ blanks screens

show a pandemic’s true essence.

These I take as your global lessons.

Except, there’s a chance you hope we’ve learned

no dangers reside in reports

from the noiseless land within.

The hazard is to neglect the splendor of the self

for the heaping brouhaha of news, noise and sights

we knuckleheads have taught ourselves

to mourn and miss.

~ This poem was previously published in Acoustic Levitation: Journal of Music, Arts & Culture.
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