Carousel
for Evelyn Conley




           why is
    a   carousel sad
   and exact why is it
 turning forever around       in
my head? why is its music     its
movement as real as glass?    when
 if  at all will the melody   end?
  dreamlike my memories die   into
   animals   prancing around  in a
    formal   procession to nowhere
    calico   horses pace     up and                    down
     and a   tiger a     lion a zebra          move round
      to      the     music alongside a    bracket of swans as
               a   host of golden haired cherubs lean down from  the
                 clouds and throw kisses  at cherubs that reaching from
                 mirrors throw kisses at  them and the kisses are   lost
        on the    wind and the music and  movement and kisses all   waft
       over water to                    me                     in  this
        dream of a carousel wishes hitch  rides on the horses the lion
         the zebra parading past mirrors  where cherubs reach up from
        the sky      to throw kisses at cherubs who ride on the  soft
         light           of clouds and       kisses and horses    and
          wishes              ride               sadly around      and
            around            till                   they waste      on
              the             wind                     and music     
               comes          over                   the water
                  to          call                  in a  sigh
                               for                   a circle
                                of                 animals
                                                 lost  in a
                                                song    on
                                                the
                                               wind




          Note: �Carousel� won the 1997 WordArt Esme Bradberry prize.











		He Responds to His Analyst's Count
		(a cardinal ideogram, after May Swenson)

         	  0	A target of some kind?

		  1	Mumblety-peg;
		       	a knife quivering at my foot

		  2	A hanger for the neckties
		 	I gave father for Christmas
			that he never wore

		  3	How my chapped lips felt
			when I ate popcorn

		  4	The chair the acrobat balanced on
			just before he fell

		  5	The ball I threw broke a window.
			I cut myself picking up the glass.

		  6	Walking the dog with my yo-yo
			(the only dog I ever had)

		  7	I was tied to a giant wheel.
		 	It was spinning slowly.
		 	The hatchet came straight at me.
			My screams woke me up.

                  8	When he hit me
		` 	my glasses hit the table.

	`	  9	I took a balloon on a stick
			home from the circus
			but Kenny broke it.

                 10	That was close.
			Next time, bull's eye.




   ���Note: First published in Negative Capability (V, iii, Summer 1985),
      this poem is from the lyric sequence Searching for the Windows.







    ��������������������     At a Loss


�������������The hummingbird returned for something red--
�������������geraniums and passion flowers--for these
�������������from half the world away, to find instead

�������������an absence where the flower pots had hung
�������������beneath the eave.  Such small inconstancies
�������������have left him with no focus.  Lost among

�������������confusions vaster than those thousand miles
�������������his rapid wings have spanned to bring him here,
�������������he darts from trees to eave to window sills

�������������for what he needs to be there, as I move
�������������from room to room where you so lately were,
�������������and learn the loneliness that follows love.




Note: �At a Loss� first appeared in Defined Providence (Vol. 7, 1999), and
was awarded 1st prize in their annual contest.

This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page