POETRY WALKING NAKED IN MELBOURNE IN THE SPRING 

                                     Notes for a poem after Juan Ramon Jimenéz

                                                (for Sarah Gabriel)

          A poem flies out of the poet like a spark

          Light as a spark

          Like an angel is light

          When I come out of the hotel after breakfast you have already begun

          Your run around the wet green park

          The gardens of our childhood

          And the yellow flowers are already clapping your progress

          The poem is interested in us

          It strikes up a conversation

          It asks how our day has gone

          This day of solitude as a poet

          Or this day of crowded hurrying

          Like an office worker

          Or a Psychologist

          Or teacher

          I take the arm of poetry

          And walk fondly with it to the fountain

          Where your red cheeks

          Are already bending towards

          The bubbling of mercurious water

          At the same time clear and silver and cold

          In the sun of the morning

          Your chest is heaving from your run

          It imitates the tiny birds

          It fills out the white blouse like a promise

          Your hair in plaits like a schoolgirl is already sweeping the paths of your memory

          Clear of the leaves of thoughts which had begun to gather

          Like a storm at the edge of your mind

          As we enter the café

          Here is the day for us

          Placed like a cake on a plate

                                                                                                   Lyndon Walker

                                                                                         Saturday, October 04, 2003

                                                                                                        3:09 PM

                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                

          Note: The first three lines in italics are from the Introduction by Robert Bly

          Of : LORCA AND JIMENÉZ : SELECTED POEMS : Beacon Press, Boston, 1997.