R. G. Bell

Home lies that way, somewhere, through the fog,
Down a road I did not ask to be set upon
And most of whose forks were chosen for me
By others no less road-bound than I,
...

I've drifted over Trafalgar's rotting hulls,
Seen dolphins play at the pillars of Hercules,
Been camel-ridden to the foot of Cheops
And walked the city Alexander took and named.
...

Storm clouds bleed and render earth to mud.
We lie inside, assaulted by the lies,
Tightly bound in gray dismality.
...

The Duck

There came into my yard a duck,
And he and I, being both in luck,
...

Fertilized with a dose of aggravation,
And watered with a little touch of gall,
Her lawn has sprouted warning signs to tell
The neighbor children and passing dog walkers
...

I reign from a second-hand Adirondack throne,
My legs in the lap of its facing mate.
Its only other claimant, a house panther,
Lies between my pale feet, feigning sleep,
...

Recorded somewhere’s something like this,
“A scientist is one who knows
Nearly all of nearly nothing.
A salesman is one who knows
...

Great-grandmother’s Frying Pan


Thinking it mine, I seldom think it hers.
...

Children no longer rush to mount
The merry-go-round,
To claim an outside horse.
There is no brass ring to grab,
...

tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

Pardon me, young man. I can see you're busy.
Please, sit by me on the porch awhile.
...

Permission

Though I may cast a picture-cloud
And bend it to my mind,
...

This time around the masses stroke their lyres.
Bread and circuses. Brats and quarterbacks.
Collective gaze, frozen on the arena field,
Witnesses what passes now for glory’s deeds,
...

(Lockhart is, was, a cotton mill village in SC.)


They're spawned in a gene pool
...

The state has numbers for the highways in
And out of town; even ones for east and west,
The other kind for north and south, to remind
Both regions they're still at odds, if passively.
...

A Romantic (Translated)

You can see the house, or what was
A house, there, in the field that was a field
...

Sam’s god

My dog sees me as if he sees a god.
By miracle appear his daily meats.
...

There once was a poet sublime
With talent for making things rhyme.
He could chew on some gum
And make bubbles with some,
...

I sweated, uprooting his cornerstone,
And heard the laugh of a nineteenth century man.
It came softly, not from the sky, nor from
The trees he planted (or at least let stay) ,
...

The mansion crumbles, held up by honeysuckle outside,
Bales of hay and ghosts within. A columned barn
With paintless facade and bitter memories.
...

There, over in the check-out line, see her?
The one with the blue hair, sapphire earrings
And matching necklace masking a fleshy neck.
(Try not to look like you're looking, but look.)
...