Patti Masterman Poems

There's always something new
Clicking along the familiar grid lines
There's the autobiographical show-and-tell
One link later, and zipping along the super highway,
...

What is the old hawk thinking
As he circles round and round
Does he see our little shadows
Foreshortened, on the ground?
...

make mine plain vanilla, please-
no syntax, or just leave it
on the side then
small and simple is always best
...

life looms the original abstract questions into our existence,
then paints absurd drunken canvases on demand-
so that the subject of the experiment imagines
that the film is devoid of symbolic passions.
...

imagine the concrete aesthetic;
miasma of an abstract dream,
as monument to genius:
how we balance our absurd passions
...

if some electric joy could paint us
here in the vivid shards of wasted glass,
or create a beauty that's never been drunk
we'd question our surreal imaginations,
...

the moon rose plays at loving
the sea rings with a fantasy song
under the depths I was drunk on your love
wine of a warm, sweet passion through which
...

everyone carries their own legend inside,
their mythos of how the world was saved, only within them;
within their abiding presence, that cured the deficiencies,
and because, having lived them out one by one, that through them
...

a random counterfeit of sweet dreams
leads to the tangent coupling;
thus feeding a voracious hunger
that kills the seed of its plant early.
...

Life doesn't determine randomly everything that happens to us
There is a sanctuary, far past the outer spaces we can barely detect
Past the galaxies and the far flung quasars
There's a long hallway where the sounds fade away
...