The Physics of Love


traduced without shame


struck without harm


kisses are stolen 


then carried by breezes


kept safe from all time 


without memory




eyes without light


in infinite darkness


adjust to the shape 


of the Night




while the wind carries sound


and breathes of its longing


to ever be simple


that it may or may not


touch anyone, anywhere


and always remain 


unchanged




d'Agate

AFTER THE FALL


I sat watching my World disintegrate


evenly, knowing


it could be too late


to change the course


of All things felt . .


I bowed my head


in thought.




I'd knelt on some


so distant sanctuary,


that when I rose


and only then


I see my Heart's


brief love within 


the Bosom of Eternity








3rd millennia C.E.

HER

if you fell

            

like a leaf falls in the breeze

on a quiet afternoon, 

on a hillside

bathed in an afternoon's glow

or if you dropped

like a cool, grey-black stone

onto the surface of a still pond 

sending ripples like shivers 

up the spine of a rapt listener 

or every living thing

at once

then touched the opposite shore

to return

if you cried

like a great grey cloud

split by lightning

fully loaded

with all of summer's tears

left unshed

Or if you touched my face 

so lightly in the evening

as the moon rose

above the rested violet forest

that I awoke from my deepest slumbers

and remained dreaming 

even as I gazed within your smile

then I, truly

would do the same 

for you

@ mars

giron d'agate Saturday, april 9, 2011

    WALKING ON AIR

if you come to see me in the circus

and it rains

or if the big top starts to sag

as the clowns begin to cry

and your tears are fragrant roses

the Sun will be imprisoned

by the clouds

while the shadows of the past are lifted

where you sit alone and wait for me

where the music plays

and the leaves of Autumn fall

Do not think of me again

or wish that I would come

for I'll be with you

Yes I will

and you will feel me in the wind.

d'Agate

9/17/10

@Teodora, 57th near Lex, N.Y.C.

w/ Sylvia Martins

poetica universalis

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER


she didn't understand when I said
joy was in the wings of a butterfly


she looked for me behind the buildings
when I was in the sky


she found me drinking tea
sitting in the kitchen,
bathed in sunshine
unaware of worlds exploding
just outside my mind


she thought that I was what she knew
ensnared by cautious lies, a cruel trompe l'oeil
a trick, a trap
a sleeping form unconscious


Then the wind shifted as the night grew dark
rain was falling
I heard a scream far away


and when I awoke
she lay there beside me dreaming


the fingers of her hand
upon my shoulder






d'Agate


© ONE*OFF PRESS


written August 17th, 2010
composed, edited & formatted September 6th, 2010

'T's funny  (it's funny)


how the leaves fall,
dandelions blow,
clouds move
while shadows flee
their Maker


and words
so delicately carved in the stone
turn to dust.


d'Agate ©ONE*OFF PRESS
BOX 2022
Madison Sq. Station
N.y., N.Y. 10159-2022
for permission please
print-[attn. Editor]

When We last Say, "Goodbye"

When We last Say, "Goodbye"


Later tonight,

when the cars fall asleep

and the horses open the door

to the stairway of dreams,

when trees begin to smile

and speak in low monotones in the park,

in the dark when I walk with my shadow,

the echo of my steps

and your memory in my arms;

Will I caress and whisper to your vanishing traces

as I allow Life's entropy to fill its course?

If I am able to raise the dead, heal the sick

and bring light to those who are in darkness,

Can I not keep your soul in my arms, too?


Or are you too light to be possessed for long.


Yet, later tonight as I walk alone

You will slip from my caress

one last time

One time that will be... forever

Giron d'Agate
©ONE*OFF PRESS
P.O.Box 2022
Madison Sq. Sta.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10159

written at Harry Cipriani's; Sherry Netherland
Friday, May 28th after 10 p.m.
in the company of Ms. Christina de Angelo

with Sarah Lynch at Sherry/Netherland on the ides of March

SURVIVAL GUIDE

I should stop throwing myself off hilltops,

 the roofs of buildings or jumping in front 

of oncoming trains

Having sex with sharp objects, foreign animals

and big, burly politicos.

Every passing stranger looks at me askance

when I stand on the corner 

and whip out my dick.

What's wrong with them?

I loved playing Russian Roulette

once

CC-1-017

CC-1-017
Originally uploaded by jesseleary

jesse, my nephew, took this photo which when enlarged is quite good.

ARS LONGA, VITA BREVIS

Ars Longa, Vita Brevis

Don't be alarmed that I am madly

Impassioned by your Being

Ask instead why such a love

Should never be shared

When you know it's terrible ferocity

Would only bring death

And so it is

We remain apart

Our joy Autumn's burnished tears

And deep within the tomb

the quiet, the brave

still dance and sing

For no one else's the wiser

d'Agate   copyright ONE*OFF PRESS :

January 26th, 2010

Carlota, It may please you to know that this was inspired by my seeing you again and when I touched your right index finger (strange?).

I'm aware the idiom may be a small problem. Nevertheless u can always reach me at 917-340-1385. John

4 some one

    DO YOU TOO ?

do you see the sky changing color

or a dragon breathing in a peaceful Sunset?

do you feel a multitude of worlds

created by the stealth 

of a morning's Sunrise?

do you feel an angel's tear

when a snowflake first falls in Winter

and do you succumb to the lilac's scent

that beckons your Heart to sacrifice itself 

in the gathering shade of a Summer's eve?

 Do you love me as much as Life's rare 


 moment of Silence?

                                     d'Agate

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

for _

KEY LARGO



the afternoon we made Love

I watched as a hornet chewed

through the pristine, cerulean sky above us;

the molecules of air quivered

as you came to my rescue

then I came to yours.


the local firemen wore their sly,

omniscient smiles

two days of stubbled beard

hard upon their chiseled faces;


men whose lives are fountains of human compassion

in a desert of complacent pretenders.


They had not seeen the hornet above;

neither had you.

But I am a well-known habitue

of the seven levels of being.


hence, when the Sun rose in your soul

I walked slowly back

into the waiting Sea

wisdom of the generations

WHERE FOOTSTEPS FALL UPON THE SHORE;

WHERE NO ONE IS SEEN


Come! Sit by the heather and hearth
for I tell the tale of Love
beneath the mightiest of seas
the fingers of our night's elastic dream
weave heaven's fabrics' deep forevers
with all tears forgotten, put away
and the Beloved holding the stone of miracle
come, my children,
to the homes of your grandfathers,
our friends:
who know no fear at all
for nothing may disturb
their unambiguous Light
upon the waves of this world's marrow


a Peace-unassailed


happiness conquered your hearts
when our grandfathers emblazoned
the young, strong minds
that yield to only one Undivided truth
and the fire's warmth did shield
and guide you
THE PRECIOUS,
THE DREAMERS,
the givers of invisible,
ubiquitous
joy!

Big Worm, New Mexico

Check out this video on YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BhOkmbR98U&feature=youtube_gdata

Sent from my iPhone jgwlesko

this mural is at the corner of Houston & Bowery in

Manhattan.It has gone up only recently, is very

moving and is a memorial to Dash Snow.

magic realism 5/1/98

• 
  
  

BIG WORM,  NEW MEXICO

when the world was smoky

all of the brilliant pumpkins

danced in their ancient costumes

you and I walked through the dream forest

our naked souls kissed by the Earth

in magic worlds we only loved and were loved

by one another

that was the time of tenderness

dancing

with the Brilliant Pumpkins

wearing

 the Ancient Costumes

as the soil tickled our toes

Eternal

d'Agate

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

BOX 2022

NY,NY 10159

C

CAKES & ALE


walking down the slate grey sands

barefoot in the late afternoon tumult

of sand and shore

the Sun set to starboard

with us

as we walked together, knickers up

the breeze blowing off the salty seas

causing our chins to glisten


my Heart listened to yours

as we walked barefoot

while the Twilight began to fade


you buttoned a button

of your blue cardigan,

while the wind in our faces blew the tears

from our cheeks


the haze of Night's onset obscured all fate;

when in that hour

was our greatest delight


just to Live

to breathe

and to Love


GIRON d'AGATE

DANCING with YOU

four times ago

She, riding a bicycle

He, chewing a papaya

They, dancing in their cotton print dress

I was in a Tree

Long time past, a stream ran down this lane

There were no candy canes
Spinning,
Spinning...
Spinning

Was there music in the Air?

Some walked over the hillside

where the shadows had been

Were they to blame,

or the orange tree?

MUSIC WAS IN THE AIR

others came towards us

leaving the shadows behind


looking at the bones of fertilizer

And mirrors

forever weeping,

silently


Giron d'Agate


copyright ONE*OFF PRESS
Box 2022
Madison Sq Station
New York, New York 10159

fin de siecle

AGAIN

dun colored leaves

fall upon dun

colored skin

in your eyes

I see them

falling once more, 


falling once more again








d'Agate

NWO II

NEW WORLD ORDER II

I've been expunged by propinquity

turned Reality into Golden Harps

played by tin whistles

floating on the Wicked Sea.

cracked bullwhips,

trusted Time,

let down,

squandered,

forgotten.

Sine Qua Non

esta bene

con sum OK

tightly I toss each New day.

Fare-thee-well Forever

I return to my

raison d'etre:

moment learned

each a different Eternity

Picture That*You and Me

burn the books you're gonna nead

get right down on your knees

'cause the man overhead overheard

your story

jig's up, kid

morning glory

Red, White, Blue,

yellow dog screams

past apocalyptic eventualities.

the rattler's gotcha now

you're gonna receive-

Help from Above,

on your knees

Help from Above,

on your knees

HELP FROM ABOVE

if-you-please


Giron d'Agate

N.Y.C.

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

Poet at peace

this is an image of myself taken by Robert Arihood(photojournalist) in March of 2007

The Rubāiyāt of Omar Khayyām - Google Book Search

The Rubāiyāt of Omar Khayyām - Google Book Search

SPOKENWORD: NEW WORLD ORDER

SPOKENWORD: NEW WORLD ORDER

THE OBJECT OF MY DESIRE


there was an image

standing in a desert

there was a woman

clothed in bright silk;

there was a moment

flowing in my memory

when Love found its desire


There in the desert I stood parched, staring,

listening to my heart's pulse,

while counting breaths
my breaths

as if Death were near


the image before me aroused every sense

a touch of beauty, a longing intense;

should I approach risking the vanishing of All:

yet if I do naught

I'll never recall whether it was just a dream

and live Life accursed

for not having exercised my scheme


I approached the sum of all wishes

while the wind played upon the crested grains of sand

moving each so silently

where I no longer am!


Giron d'Agate

Fall '08

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

THE GOLDEN DOOR


I was forty, she was younger

I was dying, she was growing

I was awful, she was happy

I was happy, she was glad


I was lonely, she was smiling

I was crying, she was dreaming

I went walking, she went flying

I fell down and she flew by


I got up and walked on water

I knew that I could

keep on going, keep on keeping

my true star close to me


She was standing near the corner

on Tuesday night I walked by

She said my name softly, sweetly

I turned round to see her eyes


they are special in her feature

they display a certain courage

mine are lonesome, studious, bruising

mine have seen too many die.


She asked if I'd stay forever

I said I would let her know

She is waiting for an answer

I will have to let her know


That I will be here tomorrow

That I'll see her Tuesday night

but next Wednesday and next Sunday

I have got to get it right


So before you lay down dreaming

just before you lay it down

I suggest you listen closely

for a very special sound


of a Woman wearing roses

and her gown is flowing round

all of nature's beauteous waters

all the World is in her eye


If she touches while you're walking

you will surely disappear

if she comes when you are sleeping

sadly you will turn to stone


but if she comes while you're waiting

listening closely for the sound

of worlds turning, of the Rivers

then you'll walk to higher ground


There you'll see the Golden Phoenix

there you'll see the Golden Door

there you'll find the amulet bracelet

lying, waiting on the floor


Pick it up and put it on

and walk right through the Golden Door

you will find there; you will touch there

and all will be as Before



Giron d'Agate
copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

the morning an ignorant aotomobile

the Morning an Ignorant Automobile




after showering he dressed


walking down five stone flights


to the crisp morning air




Daybreak was happening


its time out of mind way


about ten minutes


before the Sun broke


over the eastern horizon




The cool air filled his lungs


with confidence and calm


the few birds shooting across the avenue


called their refreshingly recognizable song


not for our sake


but to let their bird mates know


that today's show at the Rialto


had been changed


from two to three pm




The freshness of a new day




the pinpricks of light in the air




A scene in a city that could still convey


happiness and guarded hope


the few souls in the streets


soldier ants


ready for a days forage


while the common man and woman queued


tackling the burgeoning task


of commuting to the appropriate place


that they may reaffirm


their membership in society




None of this is out of place


to the observer-


the man who had descended the stairs earlier


has seen this scene unfold enough


that it appears ominous and tragic;


a tiresome behemoth that he cannot discern


to have a meaning more profound


than a pigeon pecking at a crumb




Inside his revulsion is a bittersweet bile


which when he tastes, he smiles


barely


and does not bother to wave a wand


causing the sleeping mass to wake




Now if you have invested even a cursory


observation of this character you would feel


that if you saw him in a crowd


he would be indistinguishable from his fellows




Yet this prophet, seer or magician


has the power and perception to say one word


that would cause the absence of place


to drop from the eyes of the masses

of the millions which surround him


like plates crashing to the ground

causing enough din to disturb


the peace of the Poconos




So you ask "Why does he not do it?"


Is there a plan?


Does he have a Plan!


Is he "God forbid" gloating


or gaining a perverse pleasure


in the lack of direction in Humanity?


doubtful;


Is he doing God's will?


Theocracy plays an inconclusive part


in this equation.


So why does he not Act?!




Should you find him, ask him


and you may learn why the Rialto


has changed its showtime from two to three pm




or he may hand you a coffee bean


and in that incalculable moment


you will have an epiphany


as the balance of all


were in your fingertips






Giron d'Agate
july 23rd,2008


copyyright ONE*OFF PRESS

HAITCH/consider this

(H)

"Don't be afraid of my friends, they're poets"

tilting her head she smiled 

then fell down the stairs

I opened the door and we walked out together

into the cold shadows which New Yorkers

imitate so well

They were juggling colorful lead ballons

on the subway that Sunday morning

because Thomas Pynchon was wearing

high heels and a vermillion wig

Crossing the Road old men

kept ressurecting from the asphalt;

as the wind blew onlookers eyeballs

in front of my boots

I stepped carefully across Heaven

then stood wathching the Battle

The sound and clatter of war can be indistinct

and is often ambiguous

I ordered my leftenant

to raise a pink banner in the wind

as we began to kill in earnest

I sat upon the grassy mound rolling

dice for the souls of my enemies

Satan slipped into the abyss

the train stopped

letting people out

I stood upon the mound of Death and ordered my leftenant

to remove a silver horse from my cup

 then entered the fray 

that sunny morning

He put the horse back in the wooden box

our grandmothers had left

Walking down the slope I heard

no sound

Stepping upon the field I found

no enemies

the banner blew lazily in the soft,

warm breeze of the Sun rising

over the trees

I knelt on one knee

and held him bleeding in my arms, tightly

his blood stanched between the fingers

of my hard grasp

There was a quiet smile upon his lips

when he held his eyes gently closed

then breathed gratitude

as a moist crimson pale rose

upon his milk dew cheeks.

Giron d'Agate

copyright oneoffpress@gmail.com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

copywritten January 27th thru June 4th 2008