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Stug Jordan Poems
When can we be lazy? like two dogs, with eyes half open; stretching our legs through the grass, laying; getting almost nothing done.
A Song for the Innocent Loner
A song for the innocent loner, the plough-hand and fish-boner: his slow pipe lowers as he listens
'Was told it wasn't he but was, but promised it was she, was not; they struggled to be we, and just forgot.'
As We Slept
I reached out as we slept, slowly waking finding the bed,
On an august night, a half-rain stumbles glass; the child-bride, in a bruise of love, endures her pain; her eyes obscenities as she cries.
Older body parts are the accessories for littler lives: Older arms are the slings to be carried in; Older legs are the stilts to stalk the earth with; Sometimes an older hip is a convenient seat;
Back of the Hunched Black House
Back of the hunched black house, a garden’s white water in a slow fountain, a sugar bowl.
He looks my way like a bull: a hungry animal reminds me of his face -
And Adam Said
And Adam said he would prefer To be alone, Anaesthetised on god’s table Before the operation,
Mr. & Mrs.
Just to think how close we came to ill repute by signing off our names, to hold heavy hands in the long corridors of the magistrate’s court; or to have the weaker of the two sold to the vicar,
The Old Scarecrow
Retired from the fields of corn, the old scarecrow stands abandoned on the lawn; old ropes, binding his hands.
Admiring Death from Afar
Admiring death from afar; A bicycle-shape closing On the foot of a hill, Where bird-drawn wings panic
I Am Not a Poet
I am not a poet. I have not been to university: no old lecturers have singled me out for special things to come,
(Sestina for catatonic patient in Ward__) Her eyes insist on seeing shapes beyond the fact her mind no longer cares;
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
When can we be lazy?
like two dogs, with eyes half open;
stretching our legs through the grass,
laying; getting almost nothing done.
We can stab through leaves
with our long legs, noses in the bush;
as happy as a pair of ponies,
released like birds into a muddy field.
Should we complicate the sounds
of the farm with our voices?
like two old cockerels, throwing up songs;
as free as if our wings could fly all day.
Where shall we sleep tonight?
huddled together like mice in a hole;
unobserved by the curious winds
that rattle above ...