Stan Petrovich Poems

the bouncing
of garbage
in a too-warm wind
slave of the street
...

August the Teenth, and hot;
Runs the riot of the rot.
In these septic days of summer
Sounds begin to simmer
...

He had to climb out from
The blue canyon, a boulder
Chained to one leg,
As a communion or penance,
...

Liquids: are alcohol and gasoline
The friends of man, food for thought?
I have bumbled through many thorny nights,
Heavily drinking ethanol,
...

It was illegal, but I and a buddy
Made camp on a gunnery range in Yuma County, in May
Of a certain year, when it was Already 115 degrees F., and,
At sunset, over the backdropp of some unnamed butte,
...

Sit in the summer's rare breeze-
Should be a pleasure for a suffering man,
But spies alight from every corner,
From electronic device,
...

They wouldn't tell me the island's name,
Just a shame I had to go.
No people were there, normally, only a boatload of hardy tourists,
Who may or may not have heard of me,
...

Swards of pockmarked ocean floor, heaved up,
Bifurcated beach with the 'bathtub rock, '
The sands preferred by feathered crits.
After a day's muddy walk we arrived,
...

See not the crocus crack its bloom;
The evening is still as an endless dream;
No screaming child, no tortured men;
There is no hiss from a snaking sun,
...

Callimachus wrote:
'Let none disparage Artemis. For Oeneus
dishonoured her altar and no pleasant struggles came upon his city. Nor let any content with her in shooting of stags or in archery. For the son of Atreus
...