Poem: Body

Art

Early summer morning light

Brightened the red gutter

Cool, cool breeze blew cooling

The warm red in the gutter

Children stood starving, standing

At the gutter, at the red.

Neighbors, parents came and ran

Adults ran quick and sick

They were sick away from the red.

Children stood, stood starving

And the redness ran down the

Gutter.

Cooling. And the sun was high and

Warm.

The gutter was bright

And the sun was high and warm.

The gutter was bright and the

Children ran away to play in the

Gutter

Up the Street.

1986

 

The Tates didn’t come to dinner last

night

We expected them at seven

Seems they were both shot in the

head

Strangely enough, right at our front

door

Keith nor I heard the shots or saw red

and blue lights

the meat burned, still we can have

leftovers

and watch stories about them on TV

and say, “Hey, honey, our street is on

the news!”

1987

 

Man with patience

I see that ancient bastard

He’s 30 or 70, but he’ll die tomorrow

So much a bastard he has no mother

to visit his grave or welcome him to

hell.

I see him every morning in my lobby

He pleads it’s cold outside, but, he

can’t argue

He

He lives outside. A shuffling, smelling

heap, he is,

Just sits and watches me go by, all

day long.

I call him boy or old boy or bastard or

filth

But you know what he does?

He gazes, rests his eyes on me and

grins. And grins a musty,

cracked tooth smile.

 

Brooding Melancholy

Sits on me like a wet lace tablecloth

Underneath the sprinklers in that maze

garden

Feeling sunny, maybe sneaking

thoughts

of passionate love

feeling time and the future

it has been joy

1988

 

A lifetime in the pit

and atomic equation

of personal reaction.


Here are some more poems published with SLUG:
Poem: Mother of Swords by Lisa Bickmore
Melanie Rae Thon: The Landscape of Language