The unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies. 49 Reasons by James M. Karns (reading comprehension books txt) đź“–
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thing
Free falls like a stone
Brings you down to the minor blues
In the face of a gale force wind.
Ancient Eyes
From the point
of my ear,
I detect breathing
coming up the stair.
I sigh . . .
knowing I can’t hide,
from ancient eyes
once a muses’ pride.
“Been a while.”
I sneer at it.
But it only slinks
to the corner to sit.
slothful thing
leans back and stares,
Then the compound lenses
display its’ images.
I see twisted faces,
bloody tools,
and worst of all
hear the laughter of fools.
I reach for Scotch,
not soon enough.
A cutting chill crosses
my page.
Better write,
It’s the only way
to channel the force
from Hades gate.
So in the still
of absent light.
You might awaken
bolt upright.
For ancient eyes
from a hideous beast,
at the stair awaits you,
take a seat.
Classifieds
Behind a locked apartment door
Eight Noble and Sentimental waltzes,
project from a 1970 Macintosh amplifier.
There between Bible studies by mail,
and a Frymaster fifty-pound deep fryer,
A naked bulb reveals in print small;
Britney Spears Circus tickets,
two stage front terrace seats,
one-hundred twenty five dollars.
His grin spread as his dark nails
fingered the bills in his palm.
Then he walked the twelve blocks
to a pay phone.
September Alfalfa Part I
The hay is coming.
It’s here in family size,
the horse can’t thrive
on weeds and sticks.
My go-to-man arrives
in good cheer,
from irrigated fields.
He throws, I stack.
The rain is coming,
it’s falling the minute
you realize that,
each bale grows heavier.
You agonize
will it last?
Work faster.
Will it do it’s work faster?
Several minutes, then
in rain time it’s gone.
Hay is in the barn
Then comes
the storm’s warning,
from clouds black.
I’ll be back.
After parting shots
of thunder and
lightning laughter,
sunlight stains the meadow.
September Alfalfa Part 2
The storm hinted at its return
drifting to the West that afternoon.
But in this mountain terrain
weather systems can circle, pause,
reappear to threaten and rain.
So it was after the September alfalfa
was laid to rest in the barn,
I sat resting in the family dining room
enjoying early evening tea and scone.
Then thunder cracked above the house,
and a second clap like bullets across the sky.
The violent cloudburst moved quickly on,
until through my window I could see
smoke spilling from a soggy tree.
The murderous thing had left its mark,
before picking up and setting off.
Physiks
I remember you
Like yesterday
I watch from
An incandescent hall
Old men in dark coats
Large rooms supported
By brick buildings
Sunlight idling across
Tall many-paned windows
And in the corner
A rainbow on the chalkboard
A mobile of planets
Hanging over a desk
Upon which
Two magnets are frozen
In dance
Ball bearings roll across
A sloping notebook
And the distant clock tower
Chimes the hour
Change
Change is good, that’s what they say.
Look at what we did.
Don’t look at what used to be.
Get ready, they proclaim.
“Yes we can!”
Change A comin,
with shiny promises,
and a clean smell come-on.
Now we already know,
change neither right nor wrong.
Everything is in range,
Change
Only begets
More change.
Casino
Repeatedly I am tempted by tempters,
and temptresses.
Can I bring you a drink?
Light your smoke?
Tell you a joke?
Repeatedly the money is around,
its slides through my hands
like rice brown
Into a pan
Three children I have sired:
Happy. Lucky, And Reason.
All have repeatedly died.
Afternoon comes and I rest
On the laurels of the day
until tomorrow’s play.
That Saddle
The old one hanging mute,
with ghostly voices.
A silent witness
once straddled to
partner steed.
On the horn, embedded
coffee stains.
Under yoke,
equine sweat streams
with trail motes.
In the seat rising,
deals were made.
There blood dropped,
A signed ink spot,
proof of the closing.
Latigo silver stirrup,
and on the lashing,
is that salt deposit
from a young girl crying?
What stories were told
From this campfire pillow,
to faces simmering
by mesquite glow?
As the wind rushes up
to hear the trees rattle.
Then after first light,
slowly rides another morning.
Yet, how many
high noon’s burning
descended on
that saddle?
Bashos’s Dream
A morning full of
small decisions -
white rice or brown
The Cloud and the Hill
The hill tends forest offspring.
Her soil nourishing their home.
She continues communion
with her children.
The cloud reaches down to them
yet he is only here for now.
He delivers rains
then migrates.
Birthday Window
I arise to warm black coffee on my lips
And view a frozen Liatris.
A cardinal couple arrives
on the backyard table.
He in finest red,
she dressed neutral.
Studying the deck,
They flutter behind glass,
and finding no food
they leave me,
in their path.
Absentee Candidate
Senator Tom called today.
He left an urgent message on our answering machine.
We had returned from the mailbox
we heard him remind us to vote.
Yet we finished mailing our ballots
after observing a television blackout.
Senator Tom called
How did he know?
The Cat Is
The dogs are in
No doubt about it.
They just ran in
the door.
The cat went out
Or is she back?
In or out or in?
The habitat
of a cat
resembles
quantum motion.
One moment
Your’re sure
They are here.
The next is quite uncertain.
My Time
The cars leave their spaces
The sun sets
The pavement races
Beneath my pads
Over there
Two women are walking
One dressed in blue
One smelling
Like women sometimes do
Stop
Bicycle crossing
Where did he come from?
Fields up ahead
Barrow ditch grasses
Evening cricket percussion
Wait!
Rib cage itches
Ahh hind quarter thrashes
I’m hungry
What’s that sound, kibbles?
Run
Run faster
The woman pack leader is calling
Again I hear her
Calling me out of my time
into dinner time
Linda In Charge
When you find yourself on the nursing unit
with your question,
you are informed by the secretary
with her answer
as to who and what.
But where is this person?
A walk down the hall
And there she is.
Diminutive, moving quickly
among those in need.
Actively engaged in her work,
that thing which biophysics attempts to explain.
She represents the cervical vertebra
of a fragile healthcare system spine,
constantly assessing the hail
of an ever changing
environment of people and medicine,
in a substantial role dating back to Nightingale.
Standing there, she is prioritizing needs,
then suddenly delegating pieces
to assemble an ever changing
jigsaw persona called care,
that hurls ahead to the mechanized sound
of a distant time clock.
What looms is something resembling a finish line
there on the event horizon of the final hours.
It's A lighted room
where with pen in hand,
her evening counterpart
awaits a report.
Free falls like a stone
Brings you down to the minor blues
In the face of a gale force wind.
Ancient Eyes
From the point
of my ear,
I detect breathing
coming up the stair.
I sigh . . .
knowing I can’t hide,
from ancient eyes
once a muses’ pride.
“Been a while.”
I sneer at it.
But it only slinks
to the corner to sit.
slothful thing
leans back and stares,
Then the compound lenses
display its’ images.
I see twisted faces,
bloody tools,
and worst of all
hear the laughter of fools.
I reach for Scotch,
not soon enough.
A cutting chill crosses
my page.
Better write,
It’s the only way
to channel the force
from Hades gate.
So in the still
of absent light.
You might awaken
bolt upright.
For ancient eyes
from a hideous beast,
at the stair awaits you,
take a seat.
Classifieds
Behind a locked apartment door
Eight Noble and Sentimental waltzes,
project from a 1970 Macintosh amplifier.
There between Bible studies by mail,
and a Frymaster fifty-pound deep fryer,
A naked bulb reveals in print small;
Britney Spears Circus tickets,
two stage front terrace seats,
one-hundred twenty five dollars.
His grin spread as his dark nails
fingered the bills in his palm.
Then he walked the twelve blocks
to a pay phone.
September Alfalfa Part I
The hay is coming.
It’s here in family size,
the horse can’t thrive
on weeds and sticks.
My go-to-man arrives
in good cheer,
from irrigated fields.
He throws, I stack.
The rain is coming,
it’s falling the minute
you realize that,
each bale grows heavier.
You agonize
will it last?
Work faster.
Will it do it’s work faster?
Several minutes, then
in rain time it’s gone.
Hay is in the barn
Then comes
the storm’s warning,
from clouds black.
I’ll be back.
After parting shots
of thunder and
lightning laughter,
sunlight stains the meadow.
September Alfalfa Part 2
The storm hinted at its return
drifting to the West that afternoon.
But in this mountain terrain
weather systems can circle, pause,
reappear to threaten and rain.
So it was after the September alfalfa
was laid to rest in the barn,
I sat resting in the family dining room
enjoying early evening tea and scone.
Then thunder cracked above the house,
and a second clap like bullets across the sky.
The violent cloudburst moved quickly on,
until through my window I could see
smoke spilling from a soggy tree.
The murderous thing had left its mark,
before picking up and setting off.
Physiks
I remember you
Like yesterday
I watch from
An incandescent hall
Old men in dark coats
Large rooms supported
By brick buildings
Sunlight idling across
Tall many-paned windows
And in the corner
A rainbow on the chalkboard
A mobile of planets
Hanging over a desk
Upon which
Two magnets are frozen
In dance
Ball bearings roll across
A sloping notebook
And the distant clock tower
Chimes the hour
Change
Change is good, that’s what they say.
Look at what we did.
Don’t look at what used to be.
Get ready, they proclaim.
“Yes we can!”
Change A comin,
with shiny promises,
and a clean smell come-on.
Now we already know,
change neither right nor wrong.
Everything is in range,
Change
Only begets
More change.
Casino
Repeatedly I am tempted by tempters,
and temptresses.
Can I bring you a drink?
Light your smoke?
Tell you a joke?
Repeatedly the money is around,
its slides through my hands
like rice brown
Into a pan
Three children I have sired:
Happy. Lucky, And Reason.
All have repeatedly died.
Afternoon comes and I rest
On the laurels of the day
until tomorrow’s play.
That Saddle
The old one hanging mute,
with ghostly voices.
A silent witness
once straddled to
partner steed.
On the horn, embedded
coffee stains.
Under yoke,
equine sweat streams
with trail motes.
In the seat rising,
deals were made.
There blood dropped,
A signed ink spot,
proof of the closing.
Latigo silver stirrup,
and on the lashing,
is that salt deposit
from a young girl crying?
What stories were told
From this campfire pillow,
to faces simmering
by mesquite glow?
As the wind rushes up
to hear the trees rattle.
Then after first light,
slowly rides another morning.
Yet, how many
high noon’s burning
descended on
that saddle?
Bashos’s Dream
A morning full of
small decisions -
white rice or brown
The Cloud and the Hill
The hill tends forest offspring.
Her soil nourishing their home.
She continues communion
with her children.
The cloud reaches down to them
yet he is only here for now.
He delivers rains
then migrates.
Birthday Window
I arise to warm black coffee on my lips
And view a frozen Liatris.
A cardinal couple arrives
on the backyard table.
He in finest red,
she dressed neutral.
Studying the deck,
They flutter behind glass,
and finding no food
they leave me,
in their path.
Absentee Candidate
Senator Tom called today.
He left an urgent message on our answering machine.
We had returned from the mailbox
we heard him remind us to vote.
Yet we finished mailing our ballots
after observing a television blackout.
Senator Tom called
How did he know?
The Cat Is
The dogs are in
No doubt about it.
They just ran in
the door.
The cat went out
Or is she back?
In or out or in?
The habitat
of a cat
resembles
quantum motion.
One moment
Your’re sure
They are here.
The next is quite uncertain.
My Time
The cars leave their spaces
The sun sets
The pavement races
Beneath my pads
Over there
Two women are walking
One dressed in blue
One smelling
Like women sometimes do
Stop
Bicycle crossing
Where did he come from?
Fields up ahead
Barrow ditch grasses
Evening cricket percussion
Wait!
Rib cage itches
Ahh hind quarter thrashes
I’m hungry
What’s that sound, kibbles?
Run
Run faster
The woman pack leader is calling
Again I hear her
Calling me out of my time
into dinner time
Linda In Charge
When you find yourself on the nursing unit
with your question,
you are informed by the secretary
with her answer
as to who and what.
But where is this person?
A walk down the hall
And there she is.
Diminutive, moving quickly
among those in need.
Actively engaged in her work,
that thing which biophysics attempts to explain.
She represents the cervical vertebra
of a fragile healthcare system spine,
constantly assessing the hail
of an ever changing
environment of people and medicine,
in a substantial role dating back to Nightingale.
Standing there, she is prioritizing needs,
then suddenly delegating pieces
to assemble an ever changing
jigsaw persona called care,
that hurls ahead to the mechanized sound
of a distant time clock.
What looms is something resembling a finish line
there on the event horizon of the final hours.
It's A lighted room
where with pen in hand,
her evening counterpart
awaits a report.
+
Publication Date: 09-13-2009
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