Lamont Palmer Poems

1.
Muted color translates into quiet sound,
or the roundness of planets and moons
that dwell here, around us, in obvious places.
...

So much, so little under
the barometer of lonely light;
waves have hit a silence,
...

Perhaps my emptiness is greater than your own.
To test these levels is a testy thing;
Bruises from tawdry love scraped against
My aching face, and yes, there are stages to it:
...

You have no right to be here,
You loud enemies borne of all
That we fear, strident offsprings
Of Emmett Till,
...

Where did the light in Arkansas begin?
Where it could burn: spirit-flame, or be
Snuffed out in an exclusive smothering.
If her strength lies in the dirt of Stamps, it lies
...

All lengthening dies; so goes hair and hipster styles,
In what may be the last gray strand touched
On sideburns edged toward thoughts of perfection.
As he sat, motion displaced in the muscles,
...

1.
Should I breathe in laughter
Or just disintegrate?
Rooms with windows
...

There were guitar licks in the whitest cotton.
That's where the Delta became a womb, a fertile mud,
Holding onto hot nightclubs, and charred impulses.
...

In your lap I find a heaven. Treeless
Yet breezy, in stages I am moved further
Upwards, toward that place we once knew well,
And now revisit, sometimes, with a fervor.
...

Blonde and
high alto
reverberations,
it was a throat
...