Lawrence Hall, HSG
Driving Home After Work:
“Thus Spake Zarathustra” on the Radio
The first few bars must always remind us of
That space movie from the future long ago
With sophomores beating each other up
Or anyone trying to spell “Zarathustra “
Without looking it up; no spelling now
Driving into a drought-red setting sun
The vapours of chemicals, road tar, dust
Allergens drifting among the toxins
Poetry sorts meaning from chaos seeming -
Maybe not tonight (Sneeze!)
Lawrence Hall, HSG
We are All Children When We Attempt Haiku
We all write Haiku
We’re not any good at it
But we honor the Shijin
Lawrence Hall, HSG
SNL: Because Men Who Betray Women are so Amusing
Re: Bang-Bang Baldwin
A man shoots a woman
For which another woman takes the fall
And Saturday Night Live
Is okay with it all
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The High Priest Kisses
King Herod’s (Hands)
His Eminence the Cardinal of New York
The High Priest kisses King Herod’s (hands)
And joins him for a feast of mockeries and lies
Giving the tyrant for his crimes a pass
Laughing at Truth as civilization dies
Over lobster and beef they pity the poor
While robed in white ties and evening gowns
And silken ecclesiastical couture
(One of them has visions of papal crowns)
Gluttony and scorn at a rented manse -
All that is missing is Salome’s dance
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The First Barn-Jacket Morning in Autumn
Dawn – windy and cold
The first barn-jacket morning
Wild geese singing south
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Kittens Come on Little Fog Feet
As Carl Sandburg did not say
At dawn: coffee and the Wordle
and thoughts
The moon’s still full, but
one last star winks out
The dew-bathed oaks drip onto
a tricky word
Fog drifts in silence among the
tricky light
A little paw stirs soft autumn’s
molding leaves
And then two eyes appear, and
a greeting tail
The forming image of the cat completes
itself
And then another – two abandoned
cats
These tiny orphans approach –
and love begins
To them I pledge
They will never be hungry or
lonely again
Lawrence Hall, HSG
On Reading Three Hundred Tang Poems
From The Jade Mountain they came
300 Tang dreams
Each in its well-ordered frame
Cups adrift in streams
The ancients speak to us still
Wisdom from the high
Each word a clear-flowing rill
Each a song, a sigh
Three Hundred Tang Poems
Translated and edited by Peter Harris
© 2009 by Peter Harris
Typeset in Somerset, England
Printed and bound on Possneck, Germany
Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets
New York: Knopf
Toronto: Penguin Random House
London: Everyman’s Library
