"eggers" poems
I stand on the gleaming rocks
and gaze out toward the pond.
I've been coming here for years now,
ever since I could throw
bread crusts to the mallards without
screaming and running away.
Across the lake are mansions
dripping with frosting and gumdrops,
but their pretention gets no heed.
I dream of inhabiting the island between us
that measures about six steps wide and just as far long.
There's a "no boating,
no fishing,
no swimming" sign to my left,
so I don't know how the dilapidated shack sits
between two steps and four, but I
want to sit there forever and
stare back at the people
who stand on the gleaming rocks
and stare out at me and
don't run away from the shrieking mallards
or the East Eggers on their gingerbread balconies
who rock back on their heels
and laugh at the show as birds
rip open their sandwiches
then turn to top off their schnappes.
I'd pay attention to that island, though.
I think it's made of breadcrumbs.
I don't own a boat,
fishing is useless,
and I'm too afraid to break the rules.
So I let the waves lap my feet
and convince myself that I'll come back
and do the deed at sundown,
even though I know I won't.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:47 PM UTC
I want to know you moved and breathed the same world as me.
says Fitzgerald
but everyone disappears, no matter who loves them
says eggers
let us forget, with generosity, those who cannot love us
says Neruda
they say. they say. they say.
they speak.
and they change me.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
I went to the Bookstore today
(can't do tablets or laptops
when smoking cigars
and
...also hate tv...don't like
the way it makes me feel
or other people look)
In downtown Boulder, Colo
Which, if you've never been
Displays fresh prints of Dave Eggers
And Edward Abbey
In an 1899 erected structure
That formerly hosted
Ballroom dances
Orchestras
And secret societies
It's not Powells in Portland, Ore
(old school state abbreviations...
deal with it)
But it's better for me
Because I'm here
And it was a beautiful day
Even after losing at chess
to a brilliant fool
just outside
I couldn't help myself
From browsing the poetry section
In its entirety
(Only here for the $3.75 copy of the Poetry Foundation's monthly)
And I noticed an increase
In fresh copies of Hafiz
Same for Bukowski
And Ginsberg
Keats was nowhere to be found
Typically, Shakespeare, Whitman,
Wordsworth...are everywhere
I wondered if the American compilation
by Garrison Keillor
is worhwhile
There were dozens
And dozens
Of masters
That I have not spent time with
Not "spent time"
Perhaps read a bit
But not, connected with enough
that I could say...I got it
Not a fully aligned get
But an education
And appreciation
To one who has pushed the craft
in their own way
Or left me weeping
at brilliance of love and language
But I resisted said temptation
Of rampant reckless bookbuying
And got my magazine
But on my drive home
In the far East reaches of the county
(Boulder's real estate no longer
grants us commons much access)
I stopped at tiny used book shop
Bought an old copy of
D. H. Lawrence poetry
for a few bucks
And by the time I got home
To take inventory of tea
Of coffee
Of wine and cigars
I was rather pleased
Pleased with myself
For I looked forward
To the read
To the sky
To living soul free
Once again
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC