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As 'Twere The Poems Of Lara Zhivago 2

He’s gone home to her…
Her, father, a clown
used to be in films;
her mum, very young
when she married him,
(‘number-one’, her name,
sounding like: her mum)
three times his daughter,
she, they said, counting
two times, more, her age,
he, three times, older
then her, ‘…than Oona.’
Tonia, their daughter…

The home, her father’s,
now, communally
occupied \ mass filled,
every n square feet
per so many, are
allowed space to live;
the father’s home, that
much \ way, divided:
perhaps, not as bad
as dividing drew’s/
Helen’s books, so
many pages per
proletarian czar.
Yes, drew used to bid
me read Helens, ruiz/
Bascom, too, before
I got myself here
to find he’s nowhere.
no conspiracy/
monkeybusiness: no!?
larisaZ shakes
her head, right; then, left,
hoping you don’t nod;
or: Linaji/Omar —
buchart, I’d read, too.
Enough of that/drew:
He said, mainly surf
yourself; pick-up/choose.

Yury, returned to
a home, as described.
Tonia saw him walk…
Can one I. D. ‘walk’?
…ing toward the house,
looking up to where
her presence might be:
much more suggestive,
prospective I. D.
In this poem she does
run down the stairs and
past the woman —in
charge, don’t you know? (of
the house! )
— banging the
doors, open, running:
Yury’s already
closing his fur coat
-(the bear’s?); she’d not thought
before: they could be
bear in a teepee,
their heads above it,
it, that coat he wears;
wore, when she did not
: my, daring, taken
over by that man,
Khamarovski; he,
Yuri’s dad’s partner,
who is a lawyer,
also, recipient,
was; and was with him,
Zhivago’s father.
Some more, later on.
drew’s letter, I might
read, this time, we cross.
I’ve stood on it, some.
-I, too’ve, watched Willis.
“Khamarovski” has
made me re-think.
Zhivago’s dad was
also hidden by
the names flung at him.
And, did he suicide?
That letter may show
what Yury had not.
I, Yuriatin
is calling; Katya,
my Katya, is there…
_Pasha, did not wait.
He went straight to war.
He was a teacher
since they had married \
since she had confessed
the degradations
Kamarovski staged,
dragged her secret wonts
through; depths that promised
or, some way, offered
a coincident
innocence; lured, as
she knew she was; the
attention of the
little puppy, so
sweet, so knowing, so -
faster than my blood
surges through my veins!
The pup, a Great Dane?
How: reality?
Extend to where’er
shot out —subconscious?
runs of the arrow
baiting the tenderer
his Nimrod attempts;
outside experience \
that can meet to match \
complement; sign-in…


As 'Twere The Poems Of Lara Zhivago 2


Joined April 2009

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • linaji
  • Sally Omar
  • Cora Wandel
  • H Maria Perry
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