Wednesday, September 12, 2012

September 2012: 1st, 2nd, & 3rd Selections

the paper bag
warming in the sun
retains the fragrance
of moss. . .
the fir forest
--Brian Howlett

I beg, Brother Owl,

to make room for ease,
for the wise,
for peace beneath the moon

and room as well
for the wide eyes,
for madness, and your leave to howl.

--Birrell Walsh

In Alexandria

My friend and I stand in the crowd
on the cornice watching the high-born
battle for the harbor.  Beyond,
the ancient library goes up in smoke,
the stink of ages blackening the sky,
all and maybe nothing essential
lost.  Bored standing around
sweat-soaked in the blazing sun
we leave and go to find a drink.

--Patrick Mizelle

Fourth September Selection 2012

Poseidon's Horses

At the end of summer
always the wind
watched by the horses
stoutly forward facing it
heads bowed against
the surf of green pastures
as clouds glide overhead.
And always the wind.
Storms blunder in
from the North Atlantic
day turns gunmetal gray
approaching walls of rain
on the road to Vík
all color is smothered
from the world.
Then come
the running cloud-breaks of sun
that stampede over the fields
where the horses are still waiting
and windows of light
race up basalt cliffs
illuminating the glacier fingers
that clutch this island.
torrents of a river unravel
on a flood plane
lava sand
the thread of the road
leads to a causeway bridge.
Droves of horses gallop
out of the brightness on the bridge
mounted horsemen follow
the fences of the road
the currents of the herd
they spread around my car
blowing panting
not quite touching it.
Beyond the river
storm fronts trample the landscape
hoof beats of air
as waterfalls
launch themselves from cliffs
blown sideways in the rain.
And always there is the wind.
Poseidon's horses run free
on lava sand beaches
breaching the luster
of the broken surf
foam dissolving
and the sea becomes night
dark as basalt.

--Wulf Losee

Fifth September Selection 2012

It’s probably just as well that I fell into a coma
as I came dangerously close
to entering the classroom 
and teaching by example
which means that I'd walk through the door chanting
proceed to the black board
and commence writing until
blackboards ran out and into walls
walls ran out and into doors
doors met floors
until hopefully others would join in 
to rewrite reality 
until the period was over
until our time ran out
Of course it’s possible someone would play God
and fire me first
But I'm pretty confident that someone else would go crazy
and pick up where we left off

--Richard Velez