Notes On A Poetry Reading
At The Library
I The librarian said
Show slides with your poetry
If they don’t understand poetry
They might enjoy the slides
The librarian said
Play music with your slides
If they are not interested in your slides
They might enjoy the music
The librarian said
Do you have any poetry for children
The librarian said
At the end of the reading
We will serve cookies milk and coffee
Donated by Starbucks
This usually draws a large crowd.
What Color Are Your Eyes?
Jesus, what color are your eyes?
Are they the color of the sky-blue-gray,
the sea green-blue?
Are they as deep as a canyon?
Do they glow like the sun?
Do they fog-like clouds and shed rain tears?
Can I see the teacher, preacher, sufferer-
God in your eyes?
Will I see my reflection?
Diamonds III
Time turned inside out.
Black is now the sun.
Passions glisten captured forever.
Clear burst of wondrous streams of fire
Like the blazing sun on an ocean’s wave
Some have feathers of fog.
Fluorescence glow
Veiling beams of radiant light
Look below beyond beneath!
To see the beauty simmer bright
People are like diamonds.
Making Love to Poetry
I like to stare at words until they have a real meaning.
To gently hold words in my hands,
hear words sing.
To softly, nibble on words,
cushion words in a silken down,
to find deep comfort in their significance.
I want to caress words, toy with them,
kiss their intonation, meter, diction.
I want to taste their mellifluousness.
Museum House
I live in a fun house
I can’t find anything
I forgot where I placed my poems
I can’t find my right sneaker
I can’t find my telephone book
Where are my glasses
I had a dentist appointment today
Forgot I posted a reminder to myself
I stumbled over weights I never lift
The leftovers in the refrigerator are wasting away
I can’t distinguish meat from spinach
I will clean the house tomorrow
I know where the gun is
If I Were A Poem
I would be as mellow
as the morning sunlight.
I will splash upon your walls
to bring you golden light,
and whisper cryptic messages
to help you walk between the shadows.
The flowers will greet you.
The birds will sing.
The leaves and trees will curtsy,
and the wind would pass,
spread like butter on warm toast,
and we will meet by the brook,
under the cherry blossom trees in full bloom,
and there we will consummate bliss,
on a bed of soft green sod.
