Wyn Cooper Poems

'All I want is to have a little
fun
Before I die,' says the man
next to me
...

How the hell are you, I want
to ask but can't—you're dead.
How hard the snow fell,
how slowly it melts.
...

Chaos is the new calm
violence the new balm
to be spread on lips
unused to a kiss.
...

The countryside's alive with movement:
a murder of crows flies over us,
cows in a field walk in line
instead of side by side, tractor
...

The mockingbird is doing the car
alarm in full shrill, so hard
on my ears I cover them.
...

For some the advent of June
means longer days of sun (boring)
for others the loss of layers
...

The hole in my head's getting bigger,
expanding at the pace of my heart,
which pumps blood there to help me
survive vectors of virulence aimed
...

Out of roiling darkness,
the unruly starkness
of what you didn't do,
...

Quantum Theory baffles me
as I ski across this field.
...

I knocked on his Amherst door unsure
of what I might say if he answered.
When he opened the door he was talking
...