songanddancegirl

"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

Archive for the day “October 8, 2012”

HERE COMES THE SUN

HERE   COMES      THE SUN

I love  Frank O Hara   crushed by

a Jeep  at 40    His poems lyrical &

deep    I love Frank’s face   on the

pastel cover of his  Selected Poems

He looks like a beautiful boy wonder

with freckles & a ponderous stare

Mouth ½  open   eyelashes long

O Frank   a death so violent   for a man

of such  charm

__

*Inspired by:  A TRUE ACCOUNT OF TALKING TO THE SUN AT FIRE ISLAND      1958  FRANK O HARA

 

Winter 2012

A CLOWN WITH BLUE HAIR

A  CLOWN  WITH  BLUE  HAIR

Driving along Queen St. today       under cover of grey

fall splendor squandered

Marching drones & clones

in large numbers   wander

A day is a day is a                 Hark!

A young clown with blue hair

is smiling at the troops      He is unspeakably beautiful

His smile urgent & fleeting

casting pearls before the swine

He’s mine all mine     I want to take him home     to meet my mother

And marry him       if he’ll have me

Fall 2011

YOU HAVE GENIUS

YOU  HAVE  GENIUS     WRITTEN  ALL OVER  YOUR  FACE

Watching kids play tag in the glaring sun

I catch a glimpse of their   future selves

There a secretary   and you   a wiry bicycle

courier   or   street urchin?  So androgynous

in your Tilly hat  you may be  nymph or  gnome

She calls you Simon   and you laugh with wild

abandon    Little yellow clogs   barely hold your

pigeon toes     Simon     I think I love you

Summer 2011

TWO OLD GALS

TWO  OLD  GALS

There is a wedge

between

my

Mother(88) & Me(55)

It’s 33

 

Whenever I tell her

I feel old

she thumps me

and says:

You’re young

 

Whenever she tells me

she’s old

I just thump her

 

Think we liked it

better

when I was

11 & she

was my

young Mum

 

When young & old

were

highly

theoretical

And she

really had it

made –

__

 

Spring 2008

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

RUN  FOR  YOUR  LIFE  IF  YOU  CAN  LITTLE  GIRL

There’s nothing like coming home

the way a child comes

home

When home is the beacon

flashing the signal:

 

Here is your Mother your Father your Dog

 

Your purple bedroom

Your raggedy brothers

One who has

shaved off his eye-brow

 

You bound up those steps

like there’s no

tomorrow

And there is no tomorrow kid

 

That home –

Those child-brothers

The young Mother & Father

will seem figments

of your

waning imagination

someday

 

So bound up those stairs girl!

Race home

Your black poodle & smiling grandfather

on their

separate chairs

await you

RUN 

__

 

Winter 2007

Post Navigation