The Backlists Poem #5

Beirut

At the border-house, halfway
up the wall, unexploded Lebanese
devise new harmonies > our singer
flees his lover’s moustache
{&} summer’s disorderly gasp
in the right direction < oriental
melodies raise wallflowers from their beds;
throw pop to the wind, fashionably
alive because there is no elegance
in waiting for strings of pearl
to light a room > if I was young
I’d still love (your exploding face)
entirely, we’d raise apples under
a waterfall of TVs / dancing
strips of sun inside their peace
{&} no freedom but these temporarily
complete partings of sea >^>^>

carry on

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