David McLansky Poems

Some will say I was purely your invention.
That I wrote not the words which from my fingers’ flowed,
That my name linked with my own works deserve no mention,
That you are the source to which my words are owed.
...

I heard his singing from the meadow
While on a slope down by the sea
It was a song whispered low
But oh it pierced the heart of me
...

In my lonely solitary Art
The record of how I’ve lived apart
My compulsive frenzy to document
My confusion over my life events;
...

I cling to your rough bark
And feel you sway glad of the dark,
I note the wideness of your girth
You’ve put on weight since your birth;
...

Thy memory, thy sum of good,
Remains transfixed, as it should,
For kindness, laughter, doesn’t fade,
But lives hereafter, the sun arrayed;
...

Elaine Sept, a.k.a Lainey Seven,
There is a God, there is a heaven
Your name implies there's more at home,
I'd be glad to have one of your clones.
...

Distracted youth whose heart's impaled
Who sings so sweetly in her travail
Whose downy cheeks are stained and mottled
Your porcelin eyes two broken bottles;
...

On the Pilgrim Road with Elaine

Much faithless love have I known
On random highways have I roamed
...

My delight in thy nakedness and skin;
Think me not perverse, unnaturnal born
A madman peeking sordidly within;
...

Do not grieve for me, the tempest tossed,
Like others in their barks against the storm,
Though meager is my gain against the loss,
And fruitless is the progress I’ve performed;
...