The Poets' Place

page 9

Coals

once i was a sockful of a forty-niner's
blood swept from the mountain's vein.

my chapped hands gave you all they could hold.
the day's greediness shone through the weave of my delight
as if i could be renewed by only seeing you.

this was all the work ever meant to me.
no gold could ever glimmer as brightly as your smile.

~helen

stones

nothing but

stones,

weeds

cover my grave;

light

carries the

goodness.

do not save my

ashes.

~susan

oh yes, Doctor!

as i look at the slide of my lung tissue i vow:

I will stop smoking!

[cough... cough... COUGH!...

er um... gotta lite??]

~DarkWind

Pavlov's Dogs

come on, come on -

the captain shouted

to the wind
to the waves
to the rocks
maybe also to the furies

who insisted on smashing the keel

i guess he missed the class
about Pavlov and his dogs

he rang a bell for fate
and fate came on with a rush
hungry
hungry

              the salvage divers said
               that he was tangled
               in the ropes around the mizzenmast
               with seaweed strewn through his hair
               and that
               he was still shouting
               or smiling -
               they couldn't tell which.

~Jim Stewart

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