Death, old age aside, Nothing is more humbling than a book or a woman. A beautiful woman. With a multicultural aesthetic perspective and a poetic voice that is simultaneously autobiographical and concrete, emotional and surrealistic, universal and humanist, Lebanese-American poet Mansour Ajami introduces his first collection of lyrical expression in Words in the Memory of the Night. This diverse compilation of more than eighty poems demonstrates diversity and difference of theme, employment of metaphor, idiom, and intellectual and emotional interplay, while exploring philosophical issues as time, space, memory, dreams, youth, old age, love, solitude, and on occasion, such whimsical topics as navels. While writing about everyday experiences like waiting for his children to come home, Ajami presents his poetry with a simple and straightforward style that is easily relatable to others in all stages of life. In Words in the Memory of the Night, a new poet emerges and shares his culture along with his heart in a memorable collection of modern poetry.

Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Words in the Memory of the Night

Selected PoemsBy Mansour Ajami

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright � 2010 Mansour Ajami
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-3736-9

Chapter One

Improvisations on a Stringed Instrument A strum A stroke An oblong sound the hazy length of a healthy yawn Is it a waterfall or your hungry fingers drawing circles of youth and exhaustion? I goad my ears to swaddle a note streak a sigh My eyes become ears I hunt for the shadow the lazy dimension of a dolorous note a ruddy note But your jagged dreams Your risky moods spin me in a forest of notes a field of tunes I pity the string your hunches and my ears A Curious Sunset I strut about in time on a notion redolent of flesh and slumber She vaunts herself as if she were a pool of shells and, sobbing, I could, if I wish, empty my voice into the somnolent senses of the sated I could expel my eyes and my shadow I could ship my nerves and delight to a curious sunset Should I be asked about a land that falls asleep if I laugh and shrivels if I dandle my whims? My memory is awake Shall I feed the words? An Old Dictionary My teacher had given (pardon, lent) me a dictionary an irrelevant dictionary I retired it but remembered my teacher Years lapsed Years of relevant books time poetry absence presence laughter fatigue and questions My teacher remembered the dictionary I unfurled its words and drove them to my teacher Contempt is now born- also shunning and protest What a pity! I cannot hate I can only blather and backbite My teacher has a memory How insolent can he be! No memory resides outside the relevance of words My teacher never enjoyed the warmth and the memory of words Teachers need no memory They live outside the words Parting with a Book Parting with a book I did not write but that I read is a past distant severed my memory is sad to retain Parting with a book that I wrote but did not read is a past so distant yet present my memory is delighted to discard Books just hang between present and past Memory is the only future Words in the Memory of the Night Before the night grays it becomes poetry It fashions itself again It assumes the form of words- a yawning sentence an image-adorning sopor a round thought an oblong thought A thought the size of the form that knows no pain There is no comma between the words Night loses its solitude its desolation when it becomes poetry Words abound in the memory of the night My friends abound I embrace all the images and thoughts before the night grays Sumi and Infinity To my son, Nassim Sumi said, "I got a high score today- 710, 200, millions, infinity Infinity, Dad!" "You mean infinity like the geese outside our window?" "Yes, infinity like our window." (Infinity with a center or a hole or no holes at all like a wall with a door) "Like music, Dad. Like that record, `Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.'" (Like the threshing sound of cicadas in our elm and oak trees) "Do you remember what I said to Mom when we were in the tunnel?-`It's as long as a bowl of yucky cereal ...'" Oh, what a memory! My son's memory is no burden Nor is mine any longer It's a ride through time A hike into infinity Memory infinity and time "I shielded myself from time with the shadow of its wings So my eyes see time but time sees me not If the days were asked about me They would not know my name and about my abode They would not know where I am" Aggressive Is My Memory Tonight, my memory wants to stay awake with me Aggressive is my memory but not unique Tireless is my memory It knows no pain yet I don't envy myself My memory is mean insolent It is my mouth My memory is all space all time I shun the past- my memory is there The present worries me- my memory is here The future is all memory I am lazy cowardly but I want all time all space My memory knows no sleep Is my memory endless night endless day? My memory never complains It knows no pain I do not want memory to be my voice my food my dream my pleasure Yes, my memory needs space It forgets I forgive my memory Would that I could forget! Memory I admire you but I am not fond of you You and My Memory You are close closer to me than my memory than my passion for my memory You are the mellifluous voice of my memory that never ceases to sing or ring If On a Traveling Dream If on a traveling dream a tear gasps or gushes down It is because you are so beautiful And I am not so young If on myriad dreams a heart yearns pines mixes present and future belies all differences A smile A word A graceful curve saves the heart If on a reveling night a dream is ordered a dream is fetched The night becomes full The day dull And you remain so beautiful And I am not so young Redolent Dreams I steadied myself in myself mastered my mind freed my feelings dismissed all daring indolence and arrogance But for a few redolent dreams and ardent aching for change I embraced my fears and wrapped them around survival I want to prolong life the whims absurdities and realities of life I will never want to die Every end is needed save the end of life the end of desire the end of fear fun and flight of fancy I am not selfish I just love life food women and poetry Young Dreams Now that I have time to dream I will dream for you and for myself I will fulfill your dreams My dreams are too young to fulfill too easy to rein in not so hard to replace It's a shame that I had to grow old to fulfill your dreams but not mine What a Dream! Bodies in my eyes sway sashay repose glide writhe dance or just lie there Bodies bubble with pleasure in my eyes Breasts lips hips legs grant my eyes perfect sight perfect presence happy light I open I close my eyes I see bodies I walk I sleep with bodies in my eyes My eyes have become happy dwellings for happy tenants Yet my eyes remain small retain their color I am at peace with my eyes I do not dare rub them caress them embrace them kiss them I dare not disturb my bodies I keep them open I want to see and see and feel I carry an island of bodies in my eyes What a light pleasant weight! Your Dreams I owe it to your dreams to your notion of the past that I have surpassed the past and now reside in the future with your dreams your notion of time and my fears Lying in Bed Lying in bed I do not know if dawn is waiting for me to awake Or if my body my mind my dreams are waiting for dawn to break Maybe my bed will decide for me Love Is No Burden I apologize for making the world, like me, love you for shaping the days into years and strewing them at your feet Am I your heart? Or are people's hearts smiles on your lips? on your supple dreams? Or simply a shy sound? I hope my heart is not a burden a smile that lost its way to your eyes to the daring beauty of you to all of you Can I still love you? Can all minds and hearts be your smile your eyes your body all of you? Can I in the age of microwave chips no chips borrowed hands borrowed heads borrowed sleep and laughter terse time and space no space can you I everybody nobody dry dreams and lust love you? Make the world, like me, love you Perhaps I can become a smile a long day at your feet on your mouth in your days Teach Me Teach me how to think of you how to dream of you Perhaps living in my mind being on my mind in my sleep (or no sleep) You can love me I can love you and fall asleep May I? May I borrow some of your beauty to write poetry perpetuate youth perpetuate your beauty and prolong life? Perhaps I can placate time my fears insecurities my yearning my thirst for answers for everything Please stay here there whenever I am around For Barbara Delicate are the selvages of your dreams Is the word a shadow raiment or a smile? Can a dream have a name? Be the word It needs you A Diaphanous Yawn Remind me to forget you at night The night belongs to me to the dream that reaches for the morning the happy hour of morning for coffee the newspaper and you Morning is not waking walking working It's a long florid sentence fashioned by the night It's a diaphanous yawn I am not awed by sleep But why don't mornings stay asleep? Nosy Star A beautiful, little, nosy star was chasing the staid crescent moon Could it be Venus? No need to know I only wanted to know if both moon and star were pasted to the translucent azure sky or were posing naked for the artist sky or if the sky and moon simply chanced to be there Should I be grateful to the patient night for escorting the blue sky the nosy star and the reserved serene moon? or to the sky, moon, and star for creating the night so my beloved can be there with me?

An Eye and a Navel

The cafe owner introduced me to his luscious young waitress. He told her I was a professor and that I spoke French. She asked, "Estce que vous parlez Franais?" and I answered, "Oui, un peu."

She was wearing a long pastel shirt buttoned to just below her majestic breasts. The shirt was cut away to the sides, forming a luscious triangle with the waistband of her jeans. The triangle boasted a reticent, salacious belly button.

I was sitting; she stood. My eyes rested comfortably at the level of her navel. We talked. My eyes centered on her eyes, on her face, No! My eyes alighted on her navel

Oh, the distance between my eyes and her navel so short yet so far away Would that no distance reigned between eyes and navels youth and older youth! My eyes are no longer fingers and lips They are now just eyes They measure distances ... They hide many a sad thought They house hungry tears Design a timid dream My eyes and navels dance in place sing to themselves hum a lonely tune They bare themselves and turn away More Beautiful Than You Nature's beauty ceased to exist Her splendid place shed its loneliness Place became beauty when you became the place I cannot declare you the most beautiful woman I have ever seen I still want to be frustrated overawed bewildered by more beauty Yet, I shall always be sedately overjoyed comforted and navely certain that there will always be more beautiful women than you Embarrassed Light Your body in the light embarrasses the light Your body in the dark caresses the dark into embarrassed light You are the light You are the dark And I am all concentration consternation and straying Your body refashions my dreams my needs I am at once a writer reader painter singer explorer geographer topographer bon vivant and a lonely artist who refuses to leave (who cannot, should not, leave) who refuses to grow or repose

Lazy Presence

Because you are not time nature earth or space I come to you I am bored with time nature earth and space I love you more because I am bored I like my mind my mouth my hands in the delicious presence of your body another body I like the different taste color scent of sleep of speech silence laughter and the casual presence of your body outside time outside space nature but not earth I am not lonely in the lazy presence of your body your bodies Your mind is my peace of mind How comforting! How salubrious! I can create through your body Flesh upon Flesh Flesh upon flesh upon flesh soft glamorous quiet abundant flesh Nature's gentle fires lazy rivulets fall foliage wanton waterfalls sober snow And time relegated to a fireplace friendly food lusty drink Body and mind dance the world reinvent refashion disrobe both life and world Ready to Read What would I do with your body? What would I write on your body? Your body is already a poem You have bathed it in notes images words soft hard wavy words Your body is ready to read Oh, the pleasure of slow reading! the scent of reading! The life of the scent of reading flings me between words nurtures my hands eyes body and goads me to write Your body and mine are like our eyes so close to each other yet they cannot see each other cannot read each other My hands ache to reach for your body but they wish not to read in the dark (Continues...)

Excerpted from Words in the Memory of the Nightby Mansour Ajami Copyright � 2010 by Mansour Ajami. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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