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Into The Universe

At the Poetry Salon last night some of us read poems with Halloween theme.  It was also Ezra Pound’s birthday.  Al Averbach recited a short poem by Pound.  Then Steve Mackin read John Keats, whose birthday was today.  For poets, we look out into the universe to find these masters.  They are our guiding lights.  A visual poem came to me and this is what I “saw”:

 

 

* keats         *          *          *          *joyce  *          *

     *       *    stein  *         *        *       *  *  basho   **

*          *   *     *      *  *  duncan  *  *       parker        *   *

crane **      *              *       *             * li po*  ****

  *mcclure       *  *cummings   *        Apollinaire

*          *          *          *    browning      *  *                 *

*     ***        *      *  **   smart*        *pound   *  *  *

*        **     *eliot* *          *     ***    *  *yeats **   *

*          *  *      *          *          **        *  ***   **   *    *

h    a    n    d    h o    l    d    i   n    g    h    a    n    d

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Being Something Else

It’s slowly happening:  pink antennae bobbing on a woman’s head, Pocahontas in her skimpy frilly outfit, a man wearing a diamond studded crown.  And there will be more today, I’m sure, slowly emerging in downtown among the shoppers—the devil, the clown, the fairy queen, the tea kettle, the pretzel!  T’s the season to be something else.

Halloween being on a Monday, we have the whole weekend to play.  Dressed up.  Dressed down.  Our imagination gets a good work out.  One day of the year (and a few days before) we get to exercise it unrestrained.  But what about the other times when we settle for the old humdrum?

Last year Bill Mercer and I read Love and Death at Sacred Grounds during Halloween with our faces painted.  The inferior quality of the paint made our skin unbearably itchy.  We ran to the bathroom cursing and washed our makeup off .  I guess that is a good reason why we’ll just be ordinary this year.

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