Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Ralph Murre and me trading stanzas

I was tempted to play my flute today
until I heard the wind through
the broad wings of a Red Tail hawk

I tried whistling
blues in the Laundromat
but ran out of quarters
& lost the dryer's rhythm

I heard that stones
were rocks when they were young.
Guess it takes time to
bring out our inner stone-ness.

well-rounded the stone
at work in a foundation wall
after carrying glaciers

The only gift we can offer the dead
is to remember them.
Mortar them into our foundations
and they will hold us up.

There were hold-up men
down at the bank today --
the president, v.p., & branch manager,
robbing patrons.

Who said our leaders are lousy?
We have the best that money can buy.
And when our icons have fallen,
we raise such a hue and cry.

We'd like to string 'em up right now, see?
We'd like to hang 'em out to dry,
but underneath the tailored suits
they look a lot like you and I.

A bottle of wine,
a book of poems and
the moon shining through the door.
So much time I have wasted.

wine for the tongue,
poems for the ear,
moonlight for the eye,
and all for the spirit.
For what is the clock?

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