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Fall 2011 Issue, Fall 2011 Poetry

Strangers When We Meet

by Bill Berkson

Homage /Obit

I like to have a little secret at the end of my poems,
The way nothing is ever finished

Nor do I abandon a thing because
Of its being just plain bad.

“My painting,” said Juan Gris, “may be bad painting,
But at least it is Great Bad Painting.”

In case of emergency, I write this down,
And when all else fails, try being kind to strangers.

Not so funny, Jack, but don’t get me wrong:
Only deep in the mucous do I see.

Abdomen Ode

Paired wrongly with the obvious, a sitting blank
The walls between names selectively sealed
There must be some mistake,
As just when exotic dancers age, the slipper gives pause,
An old soft shoe opens for the slacker inane.
Her I last saw au balcon on point.
But it was an orbital capture, you dunderhead.
“Ni hao” in Chinese says “Hello.”
Nothing physical, the mystery thinning out
No matter slowly she turns
In plain English, all eyes, mouth and hair.

Fall 2011 Issue, Fall 2011 Poetry

Chasin The Ambulance

by Amiri Baraka

Where you goin to go

If you don’t go

Nowhere ? In a circle, a circle of circles
Surround the nowhere of your scream. If you not going Nowhere

but there

Each time, turning on a dime. Complaining, screaming your pain in
The devil is evil. Say that uno mas another gin ! The devil is evil.

The devil is evil. Now if you want to wake up somebody

That the devil is evil. Good. I’m for that, the devil is evil.

Shout louder. The Devil is Evil. Always been evil. In a circle
Scream that out. If you not going anywhere you can start there.

Or even before. If you

Understand what you screaming. If you understand the meaning. Then

What do you do ? Turning in circles shouting

The Devil is Evil. Yes. Even Louder. Run up and down the streets

Get everyone you know to scream. Listen Listen Listen

The Devil is Evil. Now what ? Now What ? Now What ?