Making Sense of Five
Superior Questions
The singular Lords
themselves approached me
upon my most recent
awakening from slumber
in order to inquire
about the known composition
of my own individual
and private oneiric profile:
Are your dreams merely
audio-visual in character?
Or are they also
touch-sensitive and truly tactile?
Are they olfactory and
sensibly in range of smell?
Perhaps tasty as well
on the tongue that speaks?
And do you grasp the
whys and wherefores of these
our pentagram of
questions directed down to you?
I promised to reply
the next time
I might awake
from a full-fledged
session
The Fate of Chosen Garb
The array of human figures in the environs surrounding
the municipal wharf is verging on the astounding
Fully bald emboldened gurus bounding forth
Nearly deaf musicians sounding tunes out
Square accountants rounding numbers loudly up
Padres in fresh robes founding new missions
Gardeners grounding wheat on planks of stone
Parents hounding their poorly entertained children
Resounding stellar shapes confounding dumbfounding
Frustrated astrologers left holding bags and pounding
on the lone fisherman's sweater
From a Distance
I spy a lone seagull
on an isolated rock
just off the sparse
shoreline
and so do I go on to
wonder
if such a winged
creature
can actually feel
loneliness
or perhaps even detect
the
slightly damp solitude
being
felt by a seeing
observer
Memo to the Curious
So now I’ve decided to take
my cavorting to a new level:
I shall commence at once
to go gallivant with gaiety,
tripping about the planet,
around the world, wholly.
It’s up to me to plan it.
I am indeed quite able.
To execute the design.
To befriend fellow travellers.
To dress the part smartly.
To address surprise hosts.
To find a suitable end.
And mostly to expire with dignity
on the date indicated on the label.
my daughter your son
our nephew their niece
and numerous others
more imaginary beings
coming forward to ask
for a role in the play
a place in the rough
draft of a communal tale
told by a flurry of flames
the pyre of this joyous task
Charles A. Perrone: born in the Empire State of
New York, grew up in the Golden State of California, last studied in the Lone
Star State of Texas, completed a career in the Sunshine State of Florida. Back
on the Central Coast of California after a forty-year absence to think, write,
play music...
Very grateful for the opportunity to be part of the journal!
ReplyDeleteGreat poems, Charles...
ReplyDelete