Stan Petrovich Poems

A.
Even, neve
Neverending summer calms
At costs. The beads of sweat
...

Wet ancient beards saw
The seat of being
As a muscular davenport
Encircled by a dome of ribs.
...

Clownfish, just a wiggle in water...
The plankton is its stamina.
What is the point?
I see the seacumbers hardly alive
...

my hair goes from green
to red and yellow
bristling
my fingernails lose their summer sheen
...

Mars, on the other hand,
Is dessicated. It comes from
Beneath the soil there. Transluscence
Is its armour,
...

Still figures of headless Greeks
wholesome forms of dominion to them
while talking all along
...

the vermillion cliffs rise
at an impossible angle
at an implacable distance
home to the hierarchy
...

He put the gum in his right
lower pocket, where it belonged;
The Certs in this heat melted, staining his right
upper pocket, a crying shame.
...

Windsor Seep was dry and covered
with pine cones and dirt; on hands and knees
I could never have extracted water
there for my barren tongue to lap.
...

Not admitting defeat
I embark after the
Thorny jungle of prose-
There anything goes
...