Poetry&Stuffby
MARNE KILATES
MARNE
S
KRIPTS
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
I I I . W e l c o m e t o t h e S c a r l e t
P a g e 4
D R E A M O F T H E B A R G I R L
E R M I T A :
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In the scarlet dark of D’Legs Bar
Virgie Alma Rose Betty
Left with a child each by some predatory
Male with neither wisdom nor blessing
Of the Pill dream on our shoulders
In the arms of the middle-aged Australian
The tight-lipped German
The lisping Kentuckian in his double-knits
The tight-jawed Jap in his Bermuda shorts
Who come Wednesday nights & Fridays
Without fail who will redeem them
From the tyranny of the Bar Fine
The long nights of wide pavements without
Taxi-fare, of cheap-feels behind the shrubbery
In the spray of the Bay along the Boulevard
Of feet pinching in their high-heels
Of black stockings and lace nightgowns
Changed in haste among soiled bedcovers
Between motel hours and strangers
Ensorcelled by the sparkle of San Miguel
We grind our elbows on the grime
Of unchanged tablecloths and peer
Down the chasm of Virgie’s cleavage
Looking for the meaning of existence.
The first was an engineer, Alma whispers
Who left me the son who finishes
His can of Sustagen every other week
So how can anything be gratishere?
And other hands seek their own meanings
In the cove of thighs, between tabletop
And flaking linoleum where the durable
Cockroach nibbles at the fallen crumbs of our
Chicharon the remains of our crispy pata
And peanuts after our failed importunings.
And we trace the skeins of the Class Struggle
In the burgeoning of slums around factories
Or how to cope with the lessons of misery
In the unvirtuous state of unwedmotherhood
Invoking the Exploitation of Woman
The Innate Goodheartedness of Poets
The Promise of Deliverance in Committed Art—
As Virgie Alma Rose Betty
In D’Legs Bar of the scarlet dark
Fall limp in our arms when Petula Clark
Becomes poignant at Closing Time
So kiss me goodbye and I’ll try not to cry
All the tears in the world…