Bruce Beaver Poems
|2.||Death's Directives (I)||4/30/2012|
|3.||Death's Directives (Ii)||4/30/2012|
|4.||East Of Atlan||4/30/2012|
|5.||Lauds And Plants (Xiv)||4/30/2012|
|6.||Letters To Live Poets (I)||4/30/2012|
|7.||Letters To Live Poets (Vi)||4/30/2012|
|8.||Letters To Live Poets (Xii)||4/30/2012|
|14.||Poem For Adrienne Rich (I)||4/30/2012|
|15.||Poem For Adrienne Rich (Ii)||4/30/2012|
|16.||Poems For Adrienne Rich (Iii)||4/30/2012|
|17.||Poems For Adrienne Rich (Iv)||4/30/2012|
Comments about Bruce Beaver
At the foot of a northern pylon of the Harbour Bridge
I have kept my vigil since the mighty span was built.
I come early in the day from worn-out corners of the area
and sit when the sun is out until the waning afternoon,
thence to another role, another manifestation of duty.
On my way I pass a cavern echoing with traffic noise.
When the sun is setting it blazes up like a testing tunnel
of the cosmic fire at the beginning and ending of universes.
It reminds me we are not that far in time from a kalpa’s ending.
More than four thousand million years in the ...
Death's Directives (Ii)
Death beckoned me towards the beach
the same one on which I’d spent days,
weeks, years made up of the hours
of my life as a child —
The hidden in the warm salt hazy dusk
of summer evenings I’d moved mesmerically
from end to end of the darkened sands
feeling their mush of powder between my toes
at the phosphorescent tideline