Poems

-->

GWL

A friend is sick and I am here,

Though thoughts and feelings stray.

I'm not a shrink, but more sincere.

I don't know what to say.

So I say that and listen. He

In his concealing shroud

Has friends that he prefers to me.

I am not allowed.

6-27-13

  -->

Jerry Falwell

I'm glad that Jerry Falwell's dead.

Don't come back again.

The world is really bad enough

With Christie, rap and gin.

Jerry Falwell was a clown,

A bigot, nothing more,

All disguised in Jesus Christ.

He also was a bore.

6-27-13

  -->

The Answer

John, John. Will never spawn.

Brightest star I wish upon.

Tell me if you wouldn't mind

Whether you believe I'm kind.

In the sense that you exert

A major effort not to hurt

People's feelings.

Please don't touch.

You don't even do that much.

6-27-13

  -->

Happiness

So many things I'd rather do

Than simply go to sleep -

Listen to a symphony,

Write some poesy,

Have a conversation,

Talk about myself.

But drowsiness comes over me

And silences my mouth.

6-27-13

  -->

Confused

The structure of my mind

Is crumbling into sand.

My psyche's being pounded

Apart upon the reef.

Crayons and white jackets!

The books that I called old

And had for many years

Esteemed above the new

Were written – all but two of them -

After we had met

In 1999

The line of demarcation.

My soul was built upon it.

To resurrect the past.

The past was just two books,

And all the rest is new.

I am getting dizzy

And I cannot think.

Forget when they were written

If the poesy is good.

6-27-13

-->

Poetry

I write of my ideas

And far less frequently

Eyesight filtered through my fantasy.

Words and their ideas

When they occur to me

Make closed and aperceptive poetry

6-27-13

-->

Jacqui

If I'd only asked her

Are you having me

Followed? Are having them

Enact oblique charades?
Then she would have answered

Either yes or no

And probably explained,

Or that's what I suppose.

And 40 years of misery,

Insanity, perdition,

Doubt and second guessing

Would never have occurred.

But she's dead. The puzzle

Will not be explained.

6-27-13

  -->

Imagination

Someone said that Einstein

Said genius is imagination.

That leaves me out of it. Because

I've no imagination.

However Keats had nothing else.

And Keats is rarely great.

Shakespeare who was ultimate

Was simply all imagination.

Even though I seldom like

Or understand him, I see that.

In his head a hundred worlds

And all with populations

Carefully depicted by

The Muse of poetry.

Does genius need an education?

Something it can act upon

Besides itself, an emptiness?

Words and histories.