POEMS

1x1
[One Times One]

XIV
By e e cummings

pity this busy monster, manunkind,

not. Progress is a comfortable disease:

your victim(death and life safely beyond)

plays with the bigness of his littleness

- electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange; lenses extend

unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish

turns on it unself.
A world of made
is not a world born – pity poor flesh

and trees, poor stars and stone, but never this

fine specimen of hypermagical

ultraomnipotence. We doctors know

a hopeless case if – listen: there’s a hell

of a good universe next door, let’s go.

Child
By Silvia Plath

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing

I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose names you meditate-

April snowdrop, Indian pipe
Little

Stalk without wrinkle,

Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous

Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.
It Could Have Been A Lonely Night
By Minji Karibo

It could have been a lonely night,

But tree and shade shared a common greenness;

It could have been a tearful night,

But the teasing shadows shook with laughter:

It could have been a poor night

But the moons showered a million sequins:

It could have been a fearful night,

But the gentle breeze sang of safety:

It could have been a troubled night,

But the unruffled waters spoke of peace.

Book of Questions
LXV
By Pablo Neruda

Does the drop of metal shine

like a syllable in my song?

Does a word sometimes

slither like a serpent?

Didn’t a name like an orange

creep into your heart?

From which river do fish come?

From the word silversmithing?

When they stow too many vowels

don’t sailing ships wreck?
Women and Children First
By Ingrid de Kok

It’s always been so. This

makes it worse. Women
and children first.

First to be hurt
Last to be nursed.
It always been so.

When rumour stalks

First to be cursed.
And worse.

Turned out, inside out.

Only safe in the hearse.
Women and children first