Traces (3)

Memory

The last time

You looked back,

There was nobody

Following you—

Turn back.

~~~~~

Conditional

If I had a voice

Worth keeping,

I’d give it

All I have.

~~~~~

Morpheus

Waking but not yet

Fully, duly emptying

The last dull traces.

~~~~~

To the Reader

These scribblings

Mock me.

~~~~~

Take Two

Director’s chair’s aslant

On two legs against a wall—

The scene calls

For suspense.

Traces (7)

Blockhead Existentialism

The tree was always there when

You needed it

Until you became a stump.

~~~~~

Truce

The poem

Wants nothing

From you

But to meet it

On its own

Terms—

Unconditional

Surrender.

~~~~~

Waiting for a Bite

Whenever I throw out a line,

I always hope

Something will be left when

The poem decides

To reel me in.

~~~~~

Concentration Means Resolution

Let the first thing

That enters your mind

Stay there.

~~~~~

True North

So easy to be misled

By aimless wandering,

But then again, no one

Ever found himself by

Using a compass.

NB: A note on Traces: Time to leave, hopefully not without having left a trace.

Traces (6)

Share and Share Alike

You say it’s ours

For the keeping, I say since when

And then why

Are you going to throw it my way?

~~~~~

As Long As It Lasts

So how much

Are you willing to wager

It won’t go away?

I bet you don’t even know

The time of day.

~~~~~

Under the Volcano

See, I told you

You would not

Enjoy the view.

~~~~~

Inspiration

Breathless, waiting dumbly

To be struck

Dead in the head.

~~~~~

Aporia of the Man with the Closed Mind

I know

The good book says God is

Both A and Ω and thus

Readily accessible

To anyone at any point

In their life but why

Is there no table of contents?

Traces (5)

Pun, as in Donne

Intensity of vision?

The few who have it

Are under no illusion—

They see right

Through it.

~~~~~

Stage Directions

Place setting

Sun left

Enter full

Moon right

No dialogue

Necessary.

~~~~~

Square Thinking

We have to examine

The problem

From all sides, even if

It’s a circle.

~~~~~

Spectacles

Magnifying small type—

Gross human character.

~~~~~

Tunnel

There should be a candle

Burning at both ends.

Loss

Knowledge is understanding how
Each word traces its own

Means of leaving.

Traces (1)

Sun

your shadow not

of itself, a burning

display of incrimination.

~~~~~

Life Lines

along the line

you draw, another

longer one reigns

supreme.

~~~~~

Sense of Solitude

you want to impart,

dispense with it

like the wind

parting pines.

~~~~~

If it is

all the same

to you, I’ll take

all you have

and then some, too.

Traces (2)

Superman

invincible

still my heart remains

on fire.

~~~~~

Song

looking out

across deep water—

seeing, seeing.

~~~~~

Self-Incriminating Reflection

I find myself out

Watching how

Others look at me.

~~~~~

Nothing

Leaves a trace

So much as that

Something you dare not face.

Traces (4)

Resolution

Let the first thing

That enters your mind

Stay there.

~~~~~

Caught

In the web of sacrifice

For your own good

There is only one thing

You can do

To escape,

Surrender.

~~~~~

Fountain

Someone has placed

A leaf on the lip

Of this weathered

Cuplike stone

Spring,

Fill your vessel.

~~~~~

Generation Gap

Hey, you larvae already

Eating holes in the leaves

Of my eggplant

As if there were

No tomorrow, weren’t you

Born only yesterday?

Laura Jensen's After I Have Voted

After I Have Voted, Laura Jensen, The Gemini Press, Seattle, 1972. Not only is this chapbook Laura Jensen’s first poetry collection, it was also Gemini Press/Madrona Magazine’s first venture into book publishing—quite an auspicious beginning, considering that Laura’s work quickly became nationally recognized—among other things— for its “domestic, stark imagery with complex metaphorical gesture, bridging interior and exterior spheres as [her poetry] traces the shifting, halting, at times unfamiliar landscapes of memory and home.” (Poetry Foundation) Gemini Press later changed its name to Querencia Books and subsequently published titles by Beth Bentley, Robyn Tarbet, Eve Triem, Frank Samperi, J. K. Osborne, John Levy, and yours truly. 

 The title poem: 

AFTER I HAVE VOTED 

I move the curtain back, 
and something has gone wrong. 
I am in a smoky place, 

an Algerian café. 
They turn the spotlight toward me; 
the band begins to play. 

The audience stares back at me. 
They polish off their glasses. 
They ask the waiter, “Who is she?” 

He holds his pen 
against his heart. 
He speaks behind his hand. 

There are tea bags swinging 
from their mouths. 
Their teeth are made of brass. 

The jello sighs into the candlelight. 
My eyes turn into stars. 
Ah—the colored spangles on my clothes, 

the violet flashlights and guitars! 


Also, check out this link to a piece on Laura that appeared on the Poetry Foundation’s site. And one last word—if you happen to come across this thin little gem (24 pp, 18 poems) forgotten on a shelf in some dusty corner of a used bookstore and the price is right, buy it. 

BTW, here’s AbeBooks’ listing for the book--roughly $14 a poem; given the current economic crunch in Hellas, it's too bad I have only one copy left!