Tag Archives: poem

A Dedication, Whatever; Followed by Breakfast

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“I’m very honored and flattered to be picked, but also somewhat confused,” Mr. Wright said in a softly accented voice, after apologizing for the sound of buzz saws cutting trees in the yard that he has described in poem after poem.

“I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he continued. “But as soon as I find out, I’ll do it.”

Wright-at-RaesSince that first phone call
I’ve been somewhat confused, sure. But finally
things are back to normal, I think.

Anyway, I awoke this morning
then didn’t bother to get up.
The sun was shining anyway,
like always. So, I thought… after a while…
why bother
getting up?
I just lay there for a while,

thinking about nothing in particular,
and not wondering why things weren’t really going anywhere.
I don’t care about progress, anyway,
it doesn’t interest me. Never has,
even though I’ve somehow lived to see my seventies anyway. You see?
You don’t really have to try.

And really, why get up, after all is said and done?
Well, said, anyway.

Although, one gets hungry
eventually.

And the people at school aren’t really waiting for me to show up.
They already know where I am,
or suspect that I am
probably just lying in bed, or dead.

 

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The Natural History of the Kraken, part 1

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Ship and Kraken (detail)

I.

Polytentacular, it grips
And rends to flinders passing ships.

II.

By covering itself with sand,
The Kraken poses as a Land—

And rises with an awful roar
When hapless sailors come ashore,

Till falling back, it drags them down
To whirl and spin, and fail, and drown.

III.

A dozen years have come and gone
Since when I held the watch at dawn

And through the water clear as air
Saw my own shadow riding there;

And stared into the glassy sea
As jelly eyes stared up at me.

 

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Alphabet, Schmalphabet – L, l

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Lily and Lamia LakeLily Lake
Loved her snake.

Leroy Lay
Stole it away.

Lucas Lops
Called the cops.

Laura Leaf
Chased the thief.

Lenny Loun
Knocked him down.

Lamia Lake
(That was the snake)
Swallowed him whole.

That’s all.

 

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A Following Song

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Kodak VS by Kevin DooleyDown by the hill, or lower down,
The larks and lizards built a town.
They sang for fun and lay in the sun
And life was easy.

Seasons came, and came, and came,
And some were different, some the same;
The flowers grew, and blossomed, and blew,
And life was easy.

But a lark grows bold to stretch its wing
While a lizard sleeps and dreams of spring.
So the larks forgot – what the lizards did not –
That life is easy.

Then they went their ways, no one knew why,
Some to the desert and some to the sky,
With the turning spheres and the passing years,
Like life, so easy.
 
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on the waterside path

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Running away from fireworkson the waterside path
by the levy familiar geese
gaggle along

while a fat boy rests on the bridge
while his backpack rests beside him on the bridge
while the train goes by

that jackrabbit lolloping headlong
that reaches cover in the tall grass
and runs out the other side of the tall grass

toward the shack with walls no longer square
whose roof is rows of weathered slats that gap
to sunlight and the morning air

while two crows black and black
perch atop two dirty chunks of broken concrete
upon a low mound of broken concrete

and me watching
me watching
as if my heart would break

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The Chinese Dragons 3

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III.
It is a dragon that swallows the moon.
A dragon delivers the rising sun in its jaws.
Knowing nothing of despair or love,
While its heart remains hidden it cannot be killed.

An Apology

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O spider, dear spider, why did I ever shrink from you in fright?
I am sorry now I did, for now I know it was not right.
O spider, dear spider, please watch and keep me safe tonight
Only do not come too close, please; only mind you do not bite.

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The Chinese Dragons 2

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II.
In the time before men the dragons ruled the air,
Spurning the ground,
Fearing nothing, not even the sea.
Evil by their birth,
They were most noble.

The Chinese Dragons

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I.
The Chinese dragons have faces like old men
Grow stronger the older they grow
Lie by telling the truth
Can ride the slightest wind to invisible heights
Are beautiful in motion, hideous in repose.

Bubble Story

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Here's a fat thing, a bubble.
Air bobs it.  It flirts with light,
sucks blue from the sky.

It wants to wander, but where?
There's no wind to show a way.
Without a goal to vex it, 
it stays a toy, untroubled.

A dog comes nosing, smelling soap,
then yelps and shies.
The bubble spits a rainbow as it dies.

 
                                   
                                   (photos by RolandasJ, carterse)