Song Smith

 –

 –

As we stand at the bus stop

I intone my quiet song

fingers to reach

into the void and

find purchase

a kindred ear

where stirrup

anvils and hammers

vibrate harmoniously

FAKE YOUr OWn Death

FAKE YOUr OWn Death

–

–

like a wind-up toy whose feet catch

and whose plastic parts seize,

 –

tapping on the table

a tiny tune of tragedy,

–

and when the child’s eyes

sallow with A.D.D.,

–and wander for turkish delight–

 –

and when the cat

misplaces his interest,

–his white kid gloves–

 –

Whir away.

Unstick your molded feet

and whirr away. Off the

table with a mighty clatter that

fetches Anna the dog. Whirrr away

under the sofa

Where you’ll build your Eldorado of dust

And wear your fruit loop head piece,

And finally find time

to make (your own) believe.

tha blu projektor screeen

tha blu projektor screeen

it grwos beofre my eyes

egdes expnadnig

 –

theer’s a cluod of blu

aurond it, vauge

is it a windoh? A p­­–o-ol?

 –

–tha profsseor’s shaodw

thowrn dacning llike demons carwling outt of tha f-eye-r

danm drity walplaper

 –

Screeming

–it-‘s flat

 –

Eye’m thowrn intu m’I seet

llike comnig ouwt of tha rabit whole

backwords

Thinking Ahead

Thinking Ahead

 –

 –

I think

my hand on

the small

of your back

 –

Feeling your

warmth

through the

flannel shirt

 –

was a memory

taken

from tomorrow

by me

 –

I like watching

movies by

myself

just fine

Lust

Lust

–

–

Little Red Riding Hood’s looking at the wolf,

The Wolf is behind a newspaper,

dragging on his fag,

with two telephoto lens cameras,

whom he calls Hansel and Gretel,

hanging on his sides,

Red knows he’s waiting.

–

Little Red Riding Hood’s staring at the wolf,

The Wolf is holding a newspaper,

smoking a cig,

with two wide angle cameras,

whom bring the bread crumbs,

draped about his sides,

Red unwraps her cloak,

it falls on the floor like a crumpled semi,

Red crawls onto the bed,

the silk sheets against her thighs;

–

Red dances in front of the fountain,

A shrine to grandmothers, and the earth,

Red steps in the cool water,

Its cold embrace embracing invasively,

The shimmery metallic mermaid-scale coins slide under her feet,

The waters reflect her face,

Red wishes . . . a wish . . .

self-taught poet

self-taught poet

 

 

flexing the muscles in your tongue

suppressing the gag

the toothbrush grinds away the malodorous coffee stain

a necessary affliction

the price of an existence between

the quiet hour, stinging-eye, sticky-palm, poetic creationism

and university business

 

as if what you do isn’t business

 

let them keep their busyness, anyway

Ω

Ω

you fancy yourself a sidewalk daisy,

you compare yourself to the grass,

you’re a pen on the ground, alive with ink—

but deadened by your past

in the teeth marks

and the broken clip.

–

this seen together

(a mosaic of recycled glass) and

forgetting your spectacles

(Heineken green integrated with)

curling your first finger

(Red Stripe brown embraced by)

and peering through the pin hole

(Budweiser blue)

it’s a starry night over the Rhone.

–

Running together like water

(or wolves)

–

But

apart from the well-written résumés,

–

a child of

Cain…

seeking a salve for the pangs of loneliness and you’re noticeable different,

caused you to raid the mead hall,

or society,

your ill-suited cocktail manner,

shuffling around the room,

trying to make the toothpick cheese cubes last…

–

Who will stay to

stoke the fire keeping

night away while

you sleep and

dream of

day?

Hide the Stars

I changed a bit of the poem from what I originally circled, and the punctuation is different, but I tried to keep it close.

Hide the Stars

a poem found in Galileo’s “Assayer”

by William Abernathy

that if we look through flames at people,
we shall see
quite plainly. Did it never enter your head
a flame between the eye and some star…
Surely there is no lack of
a skillful and prudent ex-
perimentalist?

the comet’s flame is like our flames,
a different natre,
our flames are not conclusive.
look at stars
and left out candle-snuffs,

You are obliged to kindle
and to make us see:
I shall be
much less. far away
I am satisfied
In place of the thickness.

to be seen gains an advantage–
let it be one of the stars
through the tail of the comet
brighter than any flame.

And now,
make the star visible
among the most prudent,
But if you fail:
silence, by which
I hope will now take place.