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Design Festa 2004 | Poems | Projects | pickler.net

All poems written by David Kruse. Read David’s Artist Statement.


David also wrote the acrostic poems based on Alice Pleasance Liddell from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass.

Temptation


A sunlit bath under Tahitian skies,
Drenched from color and fashioned by swaying
Amnesic palms, their crooked leaves moving like
tanned almond fingers. Like forced, ripening
Fruit, she will soon be devoured after
A gentle piercing of her oily
Skin. “Welcome to Tahiti”, she whispers. Her
Feet shimmering through the pool, seemingly
Cast in silver and Brazilian turquoise.
Picture windows harbor two men’s canted
Views, layered thresholds of salt and time. Some
Where out there they will awaken in sand
Traced memories and watery retreats
Of two silhouetted silver-laden feet.

Geisha

You have fallen behind but this time you
Meant to. To see from a distance that which
Crawls in your mind and tempts even the blue
Tempered ocean to dream. She turns her rich,
Satin, swirling, gilded, bodice and glides
Over feathers of grass, a cotillion,
Dancing with reds and golds, folded inside
Each fortuitous passing. Tamed night vine
Tethers and twists in hues of red—garnet
Blossoms to mirror this exquisite pose.
And you, with that longing to follow, yet
Afraid to move for fear your eyes might lose
This saturated beauty to mosaic
Visions. Your foot finds stone—your ear, music.

Les Observeurs

La danseuse commands every eye
In the ‘Dome de Soliel’ when a bested
Company of tails and cufflinks arrive
For more than le masquerade’s festivities.
Born recently from an obviously well-
To-do viewing…just one more glance or two
And then the cigars and brandy will tell
Of trapped, deciduous longings. At 2
The dome rakes light like a confederate
Rose, chasing colors into the dark. These
Men, like Godot, purposefully late, utter
Phrases like ‘template, interpolation’
And ‘other worldly’. Absinthe stained lips trace
Light as the flower closes around them.

The Light House

Creviced safely on a jagged-tooth island,
A floating rune between truths and gold
Like an alliance of master, mentor, and words.
Intertwined, radiating reverse thoughts, slant
Ideas, purpose from purpose, abundant life.
Like moths with scorched wings they venture in,
Taken by wants but waiting for the inlay.
Oozing in and exposing sight from wind
Caressed rocks, water’s totality, and lights
Limitations. An unsubtle mix of an
Author’s foolish lack of chicanery
From an artist’s magnanimous portrayal.
Sixty and thirty, porch and squall, hand
And silence, red and green, me and him.

The Pane

Please don’t tell her you climbed up there to boast
About her dress, those satin-blue eyes will become most
Angry, confused. Sometimes they see a him,
And why would he be in such a dress, swimming
And weathered in reds, ochres, and greens. True,
Her home exposes light and life, and you
Long to see such a beautiful place the more
Your imagination grows; but before
You arrived, remember her affairs
Did not exist. And, as if each of us were
Monochrome figures sheared close to fit
Within her dependently trapped gaze, it
Is her bejeweled residence that will be,
Forever a longing for you and me.