Ever since going through all drawers and files (as we moved out of the top two floors of our Brooklyn house and consolidated ourselves in the bottom two)…I’ve been going through files of unpublished poetry, or poetry published in long gone ephemeral small press publications.
Some I’ve gleefully tossed!
Some I’m revising.
And once in a while – I find something I’ve no quarrel with at all. For example:
Concert
Oboe and
a double bass
big as a baby elephant !
Dear mother
were you
that
big ?
Something’s all wrong
with this religious hush
The seat’s too tight
we’re in the dark
The player’s hand
cocks against the bow
Was I
the right size
mother?
this long vibration seizing
