A Tom Clark Poem

Like a fleeting heart 
Beat that causes me to stop 
To catch my breath 

Wherever it was 
I was going. 

 

Clouds on the Horizon

In this picture snapped 
Against a background of clouds 
In a green meadow, the common

Edible field mushroom has 
The appearance of a giant flying 
Saucer that has just touched 

Down and whose crew is justly nebulous 
About meeting the earthlings 
They've heard so little about 

And who are now more than likely 
Getting ready to welcome them 
With another species 

Of mushrooming giant. 

To a Poet Friend Drowning in Bathos

Had you but one iota left 
Of the deep lightness of a Herrick 

To keep you from going under, 
You’d have no need of a derrick. 

Another One for Rita, Hunchback Dwarf Forager

No beauty sleep for her 
Who recognizes all those uncommon 
Lovely greens one needs to know, 
Sets off before the morning 
Sun can wilt them, sells them after
For a pretty penny to housewives 
Too busy trying not to look ugly 
To get up and go.

To Oz Moses, Horticulturist

Plucked by a cryptic hand, no more 
Flower trysts for you, my friend 

Who cultivated the light openly 
Hoping it would never end.