Patti Masterman Poems

Tell the wind the whispers tell
Of the wish left in the well

Sin of love the sinner sins
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I can't tell if any fleas
Have smaller fleas upon them;
But I can feel that on these fleas
Are giant jaws; and toothsome.
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Nobody ever mentions the fact that
Once-beating hearts now nourish the prairies grasses.
Refusing to take notice of this, I’m busily
Threading my fibers, splayed against the crossgrain-
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To a Rune stave I lent my hot blood
To tally up the sum of the hearts affections
The scrawled, agile figures bent to their sultry task
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In calculated syllables of uttered exclamations,
Our conjugal baptisms are rife with strange gyrations-
How little we care to confabulate mercurial
Explanations for the desperate conflagrations.
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Two hands, which kept me from danger,
Two hands, which bade me know love;
Two eyes, which spoke to my own,
Twin beams, in the sky above.
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When your loved ones die,
They leave behind their shoes and socks,
Walking aimlessly through your mind's eye
Every fallowed night of dreams;
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Floating leaves, on the water,
Please bring me a little daughter;
Make her sweet and very small,
Though later, she may grow quite tall.
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Since we've no idea how the world gets formed;
Surprising to find we'd elucidate the end?
Pile assumption on assumption, till something gets born
Between death, redemption and original sin.
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Hobo Habilis, on the park bench
Hobo Habilis; you'll notice a stench
Hobo Habilis, drinks from a sack-
Stays so alert, in case he's attacked.
...