The Poet As a Man Mocked by Dreams

So! His mind had been snapped
up by turtles,
an unheard-of soup, last night
the night before, he had spilled the beans
to the paper staring at him blankly,
a real mess, no matter, i am a poet,
i like to fish, fresh air
feel out the sun, deep cool wells, go on

through tall reeds, banking
on the river

she had said, be careful
the moonbeams,
the road narrowing
along the river and the long grass
gather me
about your knees,
the good, black earth.

later
in the white house,
cobwebs and a lizard's
tail. please eat this
apple.

on the wall, a black
form, weeding.

deep eyes, a neck
braided with wrinkles:
my mother, she said
do drink this water.

no, just sunlight, please.
then the night, a clumsy
spy, a mock turtle losing
its cover.

and a strange cold inside.

(from Sentences, 1976)

Heavenly Ablutions of the Third Kind

Heavenly Ablutions of the Third Kind aka The Khyrgyzstan Water Bucket Brigade.

caveat.com

Wry wit twists:

Do not deign
To surfeit.

Child's Window on a Rainy World

Trying

To grasp the rain-
Drops from inside

The pane.

Beached Aphrodite

here

whispering in
the sand-

man's ear.

Fruits of Labor

Those who have the grudge roiling
In the pit of their stomachs,

That the plum should be theirs
Merely for the taking,

Shall have that fruit soiled
By the drudge slow worm

Blindly toiling.

Definitely Not Lemmings #18

My thanks to Irina for signing on as another DNL; she has four blogs, all of which are worth looking into. So what are you waiting for?