1965-1970
THE LIGHTBULB & THE COCKEYED QUEEN OF POLAND
There is something
following you . . .
But when I looked
behind me
the two women pointed –
at what?
The sun in the bowl
isn’t cautious.
Why should she wonder?
No dignity in that.
My shoes?
A turn of the lock
equalled death.
The two women pointed.
There is something
following you . . .
The sun in the bowl
isn’t cautious.
But when I looked
behind me –
a turn of the lock
equalled death.
No dignity in that.
The two women pointed –
at what?
There is something
following you . . .
My shoes?
A turn of the lock
equalled death.
Why should she wonder?
The two women pointed –
at what?
The lightbulb
& the cockeyed queen of Poland.
No dignity in that.
A SUBTLE WOMAN OR A QUEEN DRIVES EACH ONE CRAZY
She is not a queen but trouble
comes to her. Bread
rises so slowly
she sees it & thinks of a black hand.
She was learning to cook.
Her favorite foods taste strange to her
soggy not fresh
pellets in the back of her throat
she could choke from.
I have given gifts to those subtle women
who are a step above me
always. A thrill
comes from long endurance
their sense of outliving the world.
We need ornaments.
We need nothing so badly
as time.
Like presidents we can never not smile.
A subtle woman or a queen
drives each one crazy.
[These poems were recovered, along with numerous others, in the process of assembling a volume of otherwise Uncollected Poems, scheduled for publication by Mark Weiss & Junction Press.]
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