Poetry


• the breeze - By Rex Butters
• CONSIDERING GRACE - By John David West
• Still Near - By Hillary Kaye
• IN LIEU - Hal Bogotch
• Requiem for Stuart Perkoff - Philomene Long

the breeze

By Rex Butters

like a tall ship’s mast
high haired twisted Lucho longboard sails
wrap around shades serene
skates Windward circle
centered
hands down
hands up
tiny Tema Luna
holds tight
plays prow
figurehead goddess
regally still
trusting dad’s smooth
maneuver
roundabout rowdies
sunshine activated art
sliding skyward

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CONSIDERING GRACE

By John David West

I drove past Memphis, no time for Graceland.
Trellis bridge encaged, no exit to the
Mississippi shore. Repetitious white
lines laughed with buck tooth smiles. Mile
marker, mile marker, mile marker, mile.

Visions of bleached heads, National
Inquirers folded under fleshy
postmenopausal arms, a pilgrimage
to the musical gates. Thoughts of tales
dripped away, baptized in black velvet
dreams. No time for bellbottomed ghosts,
faithfully to Nashville before the blood orange
moon burned blue. I let iconic figures be,
leaving the worshiping to the fearful sheep.

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Still Near

by Hillary Kaye

there is history in the eye of a child
who will always remember the beginning place as it is still near is near
and the rubble will cover over the beauty
and the bountiful will make the hungry into believers
the scorching rhythming river will carry the rocks just a bit further.
my father is dead
and my mother will follow
i will watch the hands go cold and the eyes gloss over and there won't be a place to come back to.

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IN LIEU

Substitute these words:

for heart, say jar
for love, say river

for blood, say electricity
for tears and rain, say mountain runoff

for rose, say indian paintbrush

go dissemble

I fill my jar at the river
mountain runoff waters indian paintbrushes

electricity sets my jar aglow
I bathe in cool science

world awaits germination of sesame

for lonely, say shaded
for heartache, say hairline fracture

for passion, say controlled burn.

-- Hal Bogotch

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Requiem

for Stuart Perkoff

Refuse to sleep
To be absorbed
By that from which you drank.
Do not go blind and speechless
To that dark and wordless thing.
Heaven's tired
Of its faint whisperings.
Let it grow loud.

--Philomene Long


Note: Stuart Perkoff, Venice Poet Extraordinaire died of cancer on June 25, 1974. Philomene Long was at his bedside. His poems are available at Beyond Baroque, 681 Venice Blvd.

Posted: Sun - July 1, 2007 at 10:37 AM          

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