Stan Petrovich Poems

Tristan Tzara, dada's papa,
Wrote that, if one can understand a piece
Of art, it is nothing but the product
Of journalism. I agree in ways piling up,
...

First, I can only think
Of the work, the strain, the backs, the bricks;
But the Egyptians had good medicine,
And it kept the workers going.
...

My Lord High-Thunderer,
You are in a deep well now,
Are you not?
The mad Caligula, a man of shallow waters,
...

I gaze far off
-Wearing a jump suit-
To the Home of the Kachina
Atop the great extinct volcanos
...

How could you?
I was waving goodbye in that photo
You were snapping it
A sapling I was
...

celeste left me hanging
she hung up the phone
we were at odds
changing
...

If & when the blinds suddenly
unfurl, then there is the blatant intrusion of sun;
the evil it has made is dastardly,
lifegiver, lifetaker, stylish god to indians, mesopotamians,
...

I followed down a wash
My boots a little too tight;
Winding up with a deicious peace
And an angry blister.
...

With my Navajo friend Johnny,
Sitting on a dune of red sand
In Monument Valley, Utah,
And partaking in a little cotraband
...

As there is depth to the ocean
There is an infinite calling to my heart:
The variety of sparks flying
Tragically evolve from one
...