The Ballad of Nels and Yuka (Wedding Ghazal)

Steep-walled and stark stands the cold canyon: absence of Nels and Yuka.
The planet spun…but barely. Where’s the presence of Nels and Yuka?

A hurt rose blooming in her ears, the sustained and knotted chord wears
a floral dress. A rupture, the redolence of Nels and Yuka.

Let mountain snows melt. Let cirques fill and couloirs rush into rivers.
Grizzlies gladhand salmon in the confluence of Nels and Yuka.

The past: tiny frictions which end in amputations. Sweat of tears,
two lives lived. Purred tiger’s balm, pound of cure, ounce of Nels and Yuka.

Tour bus. Time zone. Vibrating handset. Skype. What time is it now
there? Exhausted happy shackled endurance of Nels and Yuka.

Bellies bulging, the notes of foghorns are nonchalantly compared.
Alcatraz vs. Golden Gate. Free parlance of Nels and Yuka.

Did you see the whippoorwill perch on the giant fig, dropping fruit
into a waiting palm? Superabundance of Nels and Yuka.

When all is said and done, more is always said than done. But listen
to the figured ground, the sculptural silence of Nels and Yuka.

Faulty motel bathroom, Taste of Reality. Even Jersey
leaves blush baboon-bottom red o’er the dalliance of Nels and Yuka.

Elections. Noise. Jobless fears. Laundry. Smoke, tequila, cabs and bars,
black cars. Weathering steel: the continuance of Nels and Yuka.

Does it smell like Teen Spirit? Do clocks suddenly tick optimis-
tic? No damn reticence to the assonance of Nels and Yuka.

Dog embrace cats. Tumors shrink. CDs actually sell. Republicans
find their inner-Obamas in the province of Nels and Yuka.

Variance and balance, romance and performance. Eyeglance radiance.
Intelligence. Poignance. Nascence. Quintessence of Nels and Yuka.

4/9/11 new york city 11:51 pm

on the occasion of the wedding of Yuka C. Honda and Nels Cline, April 9, 2011, Le Poisson Rouge, Greenwich Village, New York City