Antonia Alexandra Klimenko - November

Antonia Alexandra Klimenko was first introduced on the BBC and to the literary world by the legendary James Meary Tambimuttu of Poetry London Her work has appeared in (among others) Live Encounters, XXI Century World Literature (in which she represents France) and Maintenant: Journal of Contemporary Dada and Writing and Art archived at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. and New York’s Museum of Modern Art. She is the recipient of two grants: one from Poets in Need, of which Michael (100 Thousand Poets for Change) Rothenberg is a co-founder; the second—the 2018 Generosity Award bestowed on her by Kathleen Spivack and Joseph Murray for her outstanding service to international writers through SpokenWord Paris where she is Writer/ Poet in Residence. Her poetry collection, On the Way to Invisible, is forthcoming in Spring of 2021.

November

Myth of unsolved mystery Color of smoke and shadow What have you done November with October? last September? Not even cold December could resist your profound shudder— your dark obsessions musty scent distant rolls of thunder

Silent film on tiptoe— Chaplin Bergman Pasolini— heavy trains of thought limping through me now Deep in my throat’s forest your oboe’s haunting timbre-- twisting tones of burnt sienna living embers turned to ash

November dismembered hands pointing to The Eleventh Hour ever on the edge of slumber your days of dead were never numbered

A Writer’s Habit

for David Barnes “Make it come alive!’’

The hour is turning shades of blue and I in eclipse like this crescent moon lament the loss of fullness in these shadows passing through Ancient echoes resound in me are profound in me as from another time and place-yet cannot fill this hole in me Heart’s whole of me this shattered space We trace our lineage from dying scrolls to lips of living Light-- harmonic vibrations of the soul intonations approximations howling breathing illuminations flickering candles in the night We catch the blur of a reflection in a café window a passing train as the scent of perfume still unnamed (or is it only our perception) skims our senses drifts by evokes moves in past tenses then falls away in silence undisturbed

Anonymous passers-by hum a distant tune inside our brain Memory fades to black We looking back upon histories draw ink like blood from collapsed veins--slide the needle to present perfect score another line or two for the monkey on our back

Twilight

His love of open space left blanks between his words gaps between his teeth silences within All intervals in time-the measure of height and width the depth in which all things exist and move moved in him-a boundless three dimensional journeying between the planets and the stars the flat surfaces of his mind How he distanced himself from things and people invading his terrain-floor space parking space objects and events which occurred in the space which occupied him--the Absolute Space-was beyond even him Often he would go to great lengths extending himself the rings around his eyes-- sunken in their dark orbits spinning in some alternate Universe

Space is relative to position and direction he said but only in the physical realm The celestial beauty of inner space is infinite There is no separation between sunrise and sunset shadow and light the dead and the living Life belongs to both worlds and to neither-rests in the breath inhabits the mystery of here and oh so there

He said he said taking one last drag on his burnt-out cigarette before he shut the door

behind him Blew his brains out in the hallway he did Now, go to Hell ! he said

The Merry-Go-Round

So here we go again you and I picking up speed on our magic steed riding sliding up and down whirling round and round with no ending or beginning Everything comes full-circle Everything passes through us-a breath a memory a vision some inexplicable Miracle that has happened before that is happening right now all at the same time

One moment… you’re a child of six gliding into the sunset on a wooden pony Next moment… you’re a child of six-ty shuffling back into yourself like your favorite rerun

Tonight your dreams have packed their bags and are leaving for Paris without you your night-lite is flirting with that first star on the right all the lovers in the world are coming together in spontaneous combustion

In this very moment… a stellar explosion thousands of light years away is spinning through space is becoming that radiant smile on your down-turned face Past future and present are converging in harmonic synchronistic rhythm The sun and moon are aligning with Venus Jupiter and Mars Energy synergy electricity deaf lightning is coursing through your varicose veins Every broken atom every imagined pain every cell is being reborn Words that have flown south missing in action or in revision are coming alive are exploding into light are taking back the night The unspoken and unsaid at this very minute are orbiting your head

Soon… dust particles are colliding coalescing merging converging to form a new planet T The music of the spheres is unrehearsed Black cosmic rays are holding the magnetic field-- a convex mirror in reverse My tears a cinematic film are rolling back into my eyes Regret that once escaped my lips is falling to its knees is begging me to PLEASE not wear it like a saddle ‘round my hips is begging for forgiveness

So here we are again you and I on a carousel in the park We fall off our horse and dust ourselves off and fall in love again of course before it grows cold and dark One day we’ll get it right you know The moon is out tonight you know Nothing is by chance The music is playing Remember our first kiss? Please save me this one last dance

Family Album

The key is in the lock Places, please! Dinner will be ready in half an hour There’s Susie clearing the table Photo of Skippy feeding the cat Here’s Hubby taking out the garbage Morning will follow Kiss me to the door this one last time We made love or didn’t make love The night before we cried in our pillow Dust collects with photos on bookshelves Friends come and go Babies are born parents die Everyone say Cheese!

One by one the pages turn moments pile up Whole sentences semicolons in linear suspension He said this she said that sometimes out of sequence But does it really matter ? marveling as we do in spite of it all in spite of it all how everything you loved or didn’t really is a voice remembered-- how even the unknown will soon ring of the familiar