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in this issue
four bidden word poems
four bidden word poems Mária Chilf: intersection
Nobody's Perfect
A turbaned Swami, a bearded Amish
and a shaven-headed US army recruit
mingle with Soccer Moms and LL Bean
button-downs in some Cincinnational
airport lounge or hotel lobby or some
such;
emptyif Wallace stay-at-home Stevens
dreamt a France that was what water
is to the glockenspiel's plash, then
how am I to play my America now
Crispin's percussion Kyoto, Iraq,
Alaska, Katrina comes out wrong?
Chiaroscuro?
emptyemptyePut everything in context
something shines, but paintings darken
over time and kings and shepherds end
up crouched around a brownish light,
while spectators, from squinting, go blind.
A European History of Trains
Trains brought holidays, then later murder;
variations on the theme of order.
IA 52240
OK, at chucking out time
or after the parties, ie.
for a couple of hours round two
there will be call for them,
but why now at six o'clock
are there five yellow taxis
lined beside the blue and white and red
on silver of a Greyhound bus
called Chicago? The lack
of anything else to do?
The off-chance, a coffee, a ride one
day in ten; wait for San Francisco then
New York. Like most of life no reason.
But I am walking back from where no hope is,
where there is nothing, no, least of all, names;
so for this scene, a surety
of colors, some thanks.
Positioning
Greater
emptyemptyemptyMiddle
emptyemptyemptyemptyemptyemptEast
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(c) Rufo Quintavalle, 2007.
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