October 24, 2012

from snowstorm to snowstorm
people loved us back



Nikki Painter, 9 (Meet), 2009

Pentatina for Five Vowels
-- Campbell McGrath

Today is a trumpet to set the hounds baying.
The past is a fox the hunters are flaying.
Nothing unspoken goes without saying.
Love’s a casino where lovers risk playing.
The future’s a marker our hearts are prepaying.

The future’s a promise there’s no guaranteeing.
Today is a fire the field mice are fleeing.
Love is a marriage of feeling and being.
The past is a mirror for wishful sightseeing.
Nothing goes missing without absenteeing.

Nothing gets cloven except by dividing.
The future is chosen by atoms colliding.
The past’s an elision forever eliding.
Today is a fog bank in which I am hiding.
Love is a burn forever debriding.

Love’s an ascent forever plateauing.
Nothing is granted except by bestowing.
Today is an anthem the cuckoos are crowing.
The future’s a convolute river onflowing.
The past is a lawn the neighbor is mowing.

The past is an answer not worth pursuing,
Nothing gets done except by the doing.
The future’s a climax forever ensuing.
Love is only won by wooing.
Today is a truce between reaping and rueing.


Drunkenness
-- Aaron Baker

After the barlight soft on sweaty faces,
After the Bloody Mary,
After the Zinfandel,
After the Cabernet and the Maker’s Mark,

And the ordinary jokes,
And then the Greek joke:

The Cannibal King said: The earth is round,
And the Greek Sailor said: Will you fuck me?

Both interpreting the same symbol--

Then it’s out, out, out into the cool and rain,

The girl walking fast,
A cellphone glowing in her pocket,

The El a cannonade above you,

And you are headed homeward, more or less,

And this moment and this hour
Will wheel away
And wheel again,

World without end--

No more nor less
Than peerless Helen,
Or the ships at Mylae,
Or a wind in Nietzsche’s hair --

As much as these,

This moment and this hour,

Snugged against the rain,
Waiting for the El.

Equal the words:

World without end

and

Will you fuck me?



2 Comments:

Anonymous Alexander said...

Your two poems send me back to the Fox and Hounds of nearly a decade ago: humid night sweaty longnecks after a show, late night antics, a drink or two after being mugged, and the last payphone on 17th street just down the block.

1:18 PM  
Anonymous estetik said...

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2:22 AM  

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