Helen Bauman Poems

Do we each one endure in a small world all our own?
Or are there other persons who really share our soul?
Epiphany is singular when crowded or alone
Yet we remain in endless doubt, -
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The world from my eyes
That is so different to the world from
your eyes
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I know how he wrote
He wrote as if time had no tomorrow
And there were endless crossroads
To be lost
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This is the age of the soft generation
Warmth and heat and generosity
Mostly, we’re the generous ones –
They come to steal
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He flounced in
Black cloak flying
in an arc as he turned
The fair flowers shrank against the wall
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Late at night
Reading Faust
The room is dark, quiet
smelling musk
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If I be
long depths of night darkness
coolness personified
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The drunk man stops
in front of the vacant lot
paused, like an actor, body loose,
arms outstretched,
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Man chants
Women chance
Men chance
Let’s dance
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Our Influences
Scarily subtle, secretive
Extrasensory perhaps
Revealed decades later
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