The stream (all workshops)
My Moon (Jess’s poem from Barbara’s prose)
Moon shining on couples in love,
waves that wash away aeons
counter of celestial events
cataclysmic and pastoral
Omnipresent moon,
both distant in meaningless ways
and as close as a touch
speaks to us everywhere
man, or beast.
Where creations brilliance in a dark starry night?
Lovers and thieves, complicit in moonlight
Here's Wesley's prose entry. Dick knew where it was going the moment the Akita and his young handler arrived at class. He was confident the dog weighed 120 pounds while the boy, all of 12 years old, wouldn't tip the scale at 90. The mother and son had wanted a Labrador, daddy wanted a "man's" dog.
What they got was trouble.
I cried
initially
I wept
for you
and for those of us
left
here
reeling
and now
I have an
overwhelming need
to write
this poem.
I choose
to celebrate
Life.
Your life.
The handle bar moustache
and the alsatian,
Slopey, who would
always give one paw,
then the other one
whenever you asked.
the sun has set,
as we lay on the warm earth
and look upon the purple sky
to map out our destined birth
in constellation of astrological sic-fi
i Whisper,
look how our cosmic myths interweave,
how the planets shine this eve,
Venus is always first to appear, and disappear.
As we sit on the windowsill
and gaze into the night so still
life's mystic notions draw us
to wish upon the sparkle lights, millions of galaxies away.
Quickly running.
Sprinting through the forest of despair.
My chaser shows a measurable cunning.
My legs will quit, but I won't dare.
Many a branch flitting past me.
Leaves are crushed beneath my feet.
Swimming through the Sea of Many Tree.
It seems he has reserved for me a seat.
Brightly colored fruits bound upon tall plants.
A summer of metaphorical beauty.
The clouds trudging through the sky like ants.
The strength of my will is its duty.
1.
Oh, love-starved little boy
boy...boy...boy
how you beg for those kisses
kisses...kisses...kisses
to enfold your own image
image...image...image
down the well,
well...well...well
well, what have we here
but a love-starved little boy...boy...boy.
2.
There's a spider in the well trying to crawl up
while the rain is falling down. Sometimes
I imagine I'm a hump-backed old woman by the well,
drawing cool, clear water for you,
dear weary wanderer so very far
away from home.
SOMEWHERE HERE
That was then and this is now
and when the this became a now
I don't know, somehow,
as then was then, and now is now
and yet its all ideas somehow,
we make a this and make a that,
a now that isn't there, it must be there
or here somewhere
so find it please before I sneeze
and send it off to where, nowhere,
somewhere there.
I carried a heavy load
….of nothing
I traded my treasured gold
…for dung
I betrayed the hero
…of that ultimate love story
I climbed down the tallest tree
…and burrowed down black soil
I possessed those idols
…with all their vegetable nature
As the deadliest kind of poverty
…gnawed away at my soul
And after I set the table for dinner…
I sat to a meal of rotten flesh
…and drank of the most poisonous venom
I feasted with smiles…smiles that never reached my eyes.
The mind has cared for silly mundane sores,
but oh, that heart which loftier thoughts has sought,
to wipe the evils out and end the wars,
to which, too troubledly, we've oft been brought.
To be, to live is what all men shall care,"
yet I am hanged at loftier, grander things
and still I'm looking for the hearts that share,
rejoice the flowers buds when bloom in springs.
Inside a yellow cab
she sits
crosses long legs
finger gloss lips
peering out at Flushing Bay
ten minute ride
to house on the left
four doors down
a lighted shadow
standing content
knowing specialness had arrived
nude pictures packaged on table
bottled Negra Modelo
downstairs counting nine steps
open forum
freshly smoked Newports
she begged a drag
his cologne roaming
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