Poem
June 22
And many happy returns of the day to Cyndi Lauper, 65,
once said to ‘dress funny’ and her voice likened to ‘rat’ (or ‘rat’s’),
'The Measurement Institute' a new poem by Anthony Lawrence
You wouldn’t think to look twice: no high fence
crowned with broken glass, no security guard
heavy with boredom and a lanyard of keys.
Watching others love
is something
many do, I guess –
not so much a pastime
as a mode
'"Coming On The Hudson": Weehawken' a new poem by August Kleinzahler
He seldom spoke, even when well, and when he did it was misterioso, brief,
a gnomic shorthand, often only a grunt,
but his musicians got it, Nellie, Boo-Boo, and Sphere III too.
Nowadays next to nothing comes out his mouth, nothing at all.
Tell me how they move
for the light and I will gather wild orchids
for you and five species
of cockle shells
and leave them by your window ...
I want to climb back
into the cave of bliss
to be with you
the way you make me feel
strong arms to hold
wise words to listen ...
a spirit into splinters or a night
into day the quavers levitating
just the same see a kind of orangeness
tinge the wrenched event & head falls & sun
caws & moon forgets her name a muteness ...
He went down to the shed to look for a chook
a particular one he’d seen earlier that morning
one he realised he’d never seen before, and
that seemed to have disappeared. It was brown
with white markings, distinctive, like wallpaper ...
Sometimes you took the shape
of an unseen mosquito,
sometimes of illness ...
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