Spring Pantoum
How to know: Is moonlight ripe
Southerly winds have little to do with this
Rampant brain bleeds treble quietly
Off to the hospital where oncoming sirens blare
Southerly winds have little to do with this
Features transect stalled benefits
Off to the hospital where oncoming sirens blare
Surgeon holds a chair gifted by some name brand human
Features transect stalled benefits
Marimba meanwhile taints stucco with husk tones
Surgeon holds a chair gifted by some name brand human
Generosity seeds syllables to be voiced again
Marimba meanwhile taints stucco with husk tones
Warm pooled tones of the throat twang forth
Generosity seeds syllables to be voiced again
Render unto seizures the length and width of silence
Warm pooled tones of the throat twang forth
Someone in the crowd befits a taut crown
Render unto seizures the length and width of silence
Her reticule casually contained intention
Someone in the crowd befits a taut crown
Royal flush fleshes out command form verbs
Her reticule casually contained intention
Causal emergencies merge in private
Royal flush fleshes out command form verbs
A gathering of puppets trained in servility
Causal emergencies merge in private
Protected by sheets of shelf paper in pamper blue
A gathering of puppets trained in servility
Distract from civil living and civil suits
Protected by sheets of shelf paper in pamper blue
Northbound traffic meets the chosen few
Distract from civil living and civil suits
Rampant brain bleeds treble quietly
Ontology's mostly a basketball in season
How to know: Is moonlight ripe
Sketch
You threatened to forget me.
Water brimming beachside. Our beach. What if malignant waves washed delicate
skin. Skeleton skin. On Catalina Island we learned to mourn. Taught ourselves
the sideways mirror carved into the shape of a heart. Easy to feel history.
Film stories, glamor, flair. Your soft young hair. We walked up slim stone
stairs. I memorized where missing roads might be. Then tasted fresh fish.
Sourdough. Two men at the next table convened at the edge of life's end. I took
a card from one I almost kept. Easily faded into sleep. Dreaming a skiff. In fog
of morning here.
The
Poem
The
poem decides
not
to be
dead
in other words
the
poem relaxes
into
a ham-
mock
without mocking
bird
or mocking
The
poem lands
on
a handsome hand
retrieves
its echo
not
far from
slowly
running
river
vine unseen
The
poem entices
cloud
or sun or
spiked
heels of
steel
rain denting
cars
and bikes
the
hands the face
The
poem weaves
yarn
and yarns
twist
into selves
unknown
the tone
of
the rests unfilled
still
sings steel guitar
rinsing
whole tones
of sine
wave choir
Solipsist-o
Calypso
He
auditions constantly, sensing
talent
scouts are on the prowl for him.
He
won't be disabused of the idea
he
is wanted everywhere, he prepares
to
be discovered by invisible explorers
seeking greatness
exhibiting taste,
refined as
polished silver on the tables
of
royalty awaiting his entrance.
In
his mind, he belongs
in
full regalia, ready to be captured
on
film like a peacock
always
seen, despite wind,
even
rain, the relentless rain,
shielding
us from ourselves.
Sheila E. Murphy. Appeared in Fortnightly Review, Poetry, Hanging Loose, and others. Forthcoming book: Escritoire (Lavender Ink), October Sequence 52-122 (Chax Press), and an as-yet untitled collection from Unlikely Books. Most recent book: Permission to Relax (BlazeVOX Books, 2023). Won the Gertrude Stein Poetry Award for Letters to Unfinished J. (Green Integer Press, 2003). Won the Hay(ha)ku Book Prize for Reporting Live From You Know Where (Meritage Press, 2018). She lives in Phoenix, Arizona.
Her Wikipedia page can be found at:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheila_Murphy