Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #6                        Page 20
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Ah, my no longer young old friend, my dark-red other me, 
Temptation of sixty years, bliss & embarrassment, 
So you've left me? Not the desire, but the power
& glory, the union of epidermises 
& sensitivities, no inner-outer 
For some minutes, maybe hours. Portable personal 

Mini-paradise, illusion, egg of Thales 
Where no male nor no female is; 
Eros never too dearly bought: how do i live
Bereft of you? Partially, an implume biped
On one leg only, defined by a hollow, 
Compensated but vaguely, never 

Without sorrow.  Old Manneken Pis, a pale 
Spacetime worm slithering thru gravity coordinates, 
Cerebral spaces, as best i can, competent, 
Useful maybe to others but little good to my 
Self with no fleshly sisters. 
Nacht du schlechte Welt. 
  Darko R. Suvin __



Earth’s night wheel rolls over ocean waves. Relax,
Your dream folded into my dream. Pain
Stress and love now must sleep.

Now is the time to think about death.

Your eyelids, tired doves, may also bed down
I project your thinner face among the winking stars.
Spring remembers cherries, we invented each other.

Now is the time to think about who leaves first.

You are a vessel of bitter salts, athirst.
Much death is in my desolate kiss
A passion fallen into stagnant waters.

The blackness of the wall encounters the open hand. 
This wall is between the hand and truth. 
The wall is iron	air	 time	(says Fortini). 

The wall is us: being, not being. Frozen. 

  Darko R. Suvin __


I need you, I told the pharmacist
You accelerate my heartbeat
You awaken my appetite
You quench my desert thirst
You are just what the doctor prescribed.

You’re a pretty package
You sharpen my sight
My hearing quickens when you sound out
My muscles tense & relax
My tendons knit together.

It’s just that your instructions for use
Are unclear, they seem Greek to me
Or Corean or Mongolian or Xosa
I know the words but not the meaning
Or maybe they’re quipu knots
Difficult to read or untie.

How am i to deal with you
Take you into me
Devote myself to you --
Or maybe stop depending on you --
Unless the readings are clear?


  Darko R. Suvin__


           With thanks to Syl K and B�lent S

I sit down at my PC
The day is gloomy
Ursula Le Guin is dead 
No more verses in e-mail 
No more velvet prose 		steely glance  
A glance at this strange world of ours going to pot
An unfolding of strange other worlds of warning and joy 
We are orphaned indeed 	the shock is strong 
I sit down at my PC 
I go on writing 
In the dead of the Winter 
What was our yield from Ursula?
We'll need writers who can remember freedom 
Poets � realists of a larger reality 
Even better: O my joy, be free! 
Orphans must become parents 

But things won't be the same as with her 
I bitterly wish this cup had passed me by 
Clouds lour 		rain won't come 
The universe is unfair 

Farther South than South 
Where U went (i like to think) 
You're dancing 	quizzical dragon dear 
In a warmer wind
  Darko R. Suvin__


So there’s some hope for us still -- four thousand
Years later, an archeologist of the Final Darkness
Will find a written trace & say: „Mirlenien
Reigned here, son of Ka, adoring the Goddess Nut
& the comradely people in arms, in order
To afford happiness. His tomb
In exquisite pink marble is alas much
Destroyed in the Age of Plunder, the magnificent
Paintings only in part preserved. His skeleton shows
A height much above normal. A totally forgotten
Page of history looms hereby
Darkly up.”


  Darko R. Suvin__


Ça nous est dû. Le sang! le sang! la flamme d'or!
ancor giovane d�anni e bella ancora 
		Leopardi & Sereni

After death shall all turn simple: 
Vases find their yellow tulips, 
Lawyers prove their law, books 
Choose their readers, finally warm 
Wax freezes stiff. There calls for no 
Further alarms a closed door, mirrors  
Cease looking for more figures, no 
Alarums wax in the peace of identity  

Extinction mutes regrets, vivid years 
Are spared encumbrances. 
			  	     Do i wish
I could live on, blue eye, mind in a vat, 
Crying in vain for a body, so modestly,   
This bloody minimum owed to all of us:  
Still young in years & fertile still. 

  Darko R. Suvin__

There is a creature called God
Whose creation is often quite odd
A world ruled by banks,
Killing drones & tanks
Does no credit to a creator God.


  Darko R. Suvin__


Amor mío, si muero y tú no mueres, [...]
Pudimos no encontrarnos en el tiempo. 
-	-	-	-	-	- 	- 
También veo las muertes que est�n entre nosotros [...] 
Y respiro en el aire la ceniza y lo destruido 
Pablo Neruda 

--Por N, como siempre--

My love, in these bygone times, gone
For good i must remember, if you die before me,
You must remember, if i die before you, how green,
Deep, broad, was the valley & love we lived
Together, often apart, never disjoined. Meandering,
Waters & winds of our Earth took us thru sunshines
& black thunders, shook yet did not break us:
We could have failed to meet in the time.

Soon we shall perfect our deaths and dying, no regrets,
Leave this little enchafed heart-break island
Our yapping hearts shall abandon, not retract,
Unreconciled mustangs of galloping dreams, lover of mine,

Black-haired mountaineer of devotion borne
To death, like me, upon the Black Mountain.


  Darko R. Suvin__