Stern was the overall
Impression
Workman’s clothes
Broomlike stache
Did he ever laugh
Did tears ever ooze out
Like viscera was getting loose
Was that a wink in the fade
Of the past’s brocade
Stern was the overall
Impression
Workman’s clothes
Broomlike stache
Did he ever laugh
Did tears ever ooze out
Like viscera was getting loose
Was that a wink in the fade
Of the past’s brocade
The painting hung
In the dark hallway
Of the manor
Fainting maidens
Into a billowy
Summer’s day
The colors lifted
From the canvas
And drifted
About the place
Re-arranging
The masterpiece
Into life’s
Clamour
It wasn’t what you say though
It’s the potato
It wasn’t what you said
It’s the spud
Take ‘im in
And bake ‘im
Light-filled orchard
Where the wind dizzies itself
As peaches ripen
Bubbling and frothing
A colorful
Sloshing
Down the gullet
Like a hot bullet
Mixing and swishing
The belly is blissing
As it is coated
With the soft syrup
Bloated
The strange sap in
The veins
Ranges the body
And hangs like a
Bat
From the brain
The elixir is clearing
The way
The bird stirred
And the apple dropped
Like an idea
Squirrel scurried
And pinecone popped
Underfoot
The fine roam
Of the cloud
Streaked by sun
And the tea
In the giant kettle
Flung flavours
Into
Mouths
Smoke rose from
Chimneys
Like shifts
For
Bare geese
It was time for the appointment
In between realities
The timer flashed zeros
Magnanimously
Still he lingered on
Gripping his umbrella
This stubborn fella
“Oh Bend-ee, Bend-ee, the veend, the veend…”
He was speaking to his dog Benji about the ineffability of the wind.
Recalling recalling
When the tree took fire
Sitting on the porch remembering
On that porch
Where spark to birch
Pondering
While other wonders
Were happening.
The fair-haired one in the window
Gave him a scare
When he stood below the chandelier
Looking up it twisted his guts
Apparition in the kitchen
He could see through to the peanut butter
The floorboards didn’t quite settle
His nerves like a tea kettle
The landline’s echoey connection
Gave everyone a Bela Lugosi impression