April 28,2013, Two New Poems,Two Old Ones, Copyright Doug Stuber

AL

You got quite a ride
the day the cat flipped
over and I wasn’t yet
adept at righting
a capsized sail boat.

You, the first
in a long series
of “could-have-beens” have been the
hardest to clear from
oft-addled

brain. Canandaigua
remains your home, and
if, as they say, heart dictates
where our homes are then
this is another

choice not made,
strike two, if you will.
This heart first throbbed for you; yet
I never moved the
Way you had

To have me
move, even uttering that
“family
jewels” line. Legend
has it another

trumpet man
entered, but I still have the
letters you
sent to Holderness.
All’s well, good to hear.

TKW

Described by Janz as
“eternal
adolescent,” but art is
an adult sphere for
those who end

being in
among the swarms of
color-flingers, bright
bulb idea guys,
women with

a brush to grind, you
still wear the
fedora, still hang, Weaver
Street itself knows your
foot beat, smell

laugh. The Louvre
Shack was an art piece
in itself, socked-assed
puppets, some nudist
handed his

camera
to sophomoric coeds who
snapped away
anyway. Your stash
of music was one

of many
lures ladies young and old could
rely on.
Dennis Oppenheim
never had this life.

><><><><><><><><><><

New Ones Above, Old Ones Below

><><><><><><><><><><

“Excuse me
are you from New York?
I thought I saw you
there in May
or June.” “No Shanghai

but I visited
Manhattan in June, maybe
you did see me there.”
This is how
the opening lines

are played in
his head, but chess is
simple compared to
size, culture
generation gap.

He’s up, the ruse is
a refill at Foster’s in
Chapel Hill two days
after a
home loss too…

But dude boy
is not about to lose this
one, no; cup
in hand he weaves through
tables, stops, pelvis

eye level
as she peers over laptop.
“Yes,” she says,
“Excuse me, are you
from New York?”
“No, but…”

><><><><><><><

Drenched girls scope
Uchiro, the road
that defines
Chonndae from Humun
scholars from hunters.

Style points must
be made at all times,
now Burberry umbrellas,
black tights and
high-heeled rubber boots.

My love struts
confidently rain
or shine, her
new smile displays what
her mouth cannot tell.

Happiness
spreads to all who know
her, making
this a spring she will
remember as love

unfolds, brings
new horizons into view.
She may be
only seeing them
in isolation,

but this is
when we need the breathing space
the most, is
it not? Time to see
possibilities?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s