Four Poems

The Pen

“Are you Quill?,” She asked abeam. “Yes, of course! - mostly - when the Muselle’ visits oft’n’r upon, as my wont! “Well, here!, this will surely help at the Magic... And IT, Voila!, was in hand, a thrust-unmistakable! Blunt, bulbous & sleek, a slick Recife, this Turquoise and Silver stick. Is IT “Blue?” Is IT “Black?” Pray, “Blue-Black!?”  Wow! - A Soul instrument for Playing in the Indigene, Sole Colors of the Earth! - I nearly crack to Self. Swirled-embedded, b’neath the haute Baekelight-Crystal like a LavaLamp-Entemp. IT’s messages of ambidexsrait- Threads, Mola thru splayed fingers. O’ Charitable Mage You have brought to Life!...   I     Write    Handcrafted!                                                           H.e.m.                                                           5.1.MMvii.                                                           Solus Stuyvesantowne Across the River, West ’tis that at the cliffs & clefts of Victoria above blackish waters slick as Legislation, of Verrazzano & not-so-merried ferries, the promontory sits of visage, resplendented of red deer & red bear & white Eagles’ scat from Lady Liberty! Why, in the glare of where, opossum & red squirrel, vied in-passioned imposters of small virtue in deed sought, wrought of purloin for some vertu & bijouterie for Manhattan! (The Chief Islander) - so the Mythic goes! But hey!, it’s up-on the BigScreen, now playin’ @ The Bijou, & in the dutri-plexes & plexes of plexiglasse & MegaPlexes of Tribeca, in the Tri-boros+2... Avaunt! Above Verrazzano visage tramontane, there! the Filth & Flair of City fare, miasma which got us into insouciant Dutch!                                   H.e.m.                                   4.19.MMvii. Hi-Tech Tragedy? Hey Man!/Women, Boys n’ Girls, didja’ see ta’day? 160-more “flies” - 200+ withousted their wings, torn by who-knows-who, any-more?... 32/+ blackened-in-Blacksburg!?... Hell, WE do this each Day/every Day! in Mesomedesia, don’cha know, before brushing our mourning teeth, coughing & doughnuts! - +FIVE YEARS! But, Hey Man!, like whose counting, & counted, ’cept the Shades, perhaps & Sri Smedley Butler, in a non-General Way, eh?, but lo, The Hi-Tech-Tragedy?, jumped-onto like “Coventioneers at a Twenty-dollar fitchew!” and “All The Drooze That’s Tit To Mint!”                                           H.e.m.                                           4.18.MMvii.                                           (With Abject Sadness) Tumi or Not Tumi? No, It was not my time to jaunt & jump about the Morld with You, to glowering-green-glows of Ischia, the privileges of Mackinac, “...our Paris, Ilsa!”... Ornamented ataud & calefacted incinerators are merely better-funded!, to a last- notice of proteaned hoar, the dearth of silk... So, it was to be Goa, or Delhi “curry-in-a-hurry” not, and the touts & shouts as We passed... You in those shoes, toeing-up with heel asway like a silent, ticking-pendulum, Me, watching... Allowing sole specialnesses, but a few to my inti-mated Life, why there was You insinuate... E’er Yours-sporadic, tho’ an extravagance of Soul!, like incipient Sinatra, or the piano of Jarrett! But, No, it was not your time to jump & jaunt-about with Me, but for You, like a junkie afeared of needles, to be going, & mine to Write... of It, plecking-off the pilpuls from My blanket, & You to replacing contoured batteries and for Now... perhaps as recent as tomorrows’ accident.                         H.e.m.                         c.5.10.MMvii.

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