John Koethe Poems
Comments about John Koethe
Some have the grandeur of architecture,
The grandeur of the concert hall: the sentimental
Grandeur of an idea lying just beyond recall
In someone's imagination, compelled by an even
Greater music at its most monumental,
That begins with the explosion of a drum
In chaos and the dark, the twin wellsprings of a world
That slowly comes to lie before them—a natural
One, apparently designed for them alone,
That somehow lifts them in the end, a woman and a man,
To Paradise and the certainty of God.
It's lovely to believe—lovely, anyway, to hear.
The chaos is...
There were mice, and even
Smaller creatures holed up in the rafters.
One would raise its thumb, or frown,
And suddenly the clouds would part, and the whole
Fantastic contraption come tumbling down.
And the arcade of forgotten things
Closed in the winter, and the roller coaster
Stood empty as the visitors sped away