Growing to stop

Till 1965 ,the poet wondered
What he was thinking about,

Then he would stop for ever,
Then I was a child this high

Never knew such poet lived,
Who had never known I lived

Afraid to grow up to be dead
To be dead for ever, in 1965.

Now grown old , to turn dead
I fear what I am asking about

Since he who had been asking
Grew so slow that he stopped.

Reading poem Psychoanalysis: An Elegy by Jack Spicer (1925-1965)


Parallel world

Donkey gnawed grass outside
And when we saw in shadows
Of a window, a patch of grass

With apple trees bare of snows
In our waiting for fallen apples
While a crow , bulky one of hill

Would cry from leaf-bare tree.
We were our donkey gnawing
In parallel universe, for a while

Only to come back to our self
And no one knew our donkey
Its sojourns in a parallel world.

(Taking off from Denise Levertov’s poem “Sojourns in the parallel world” )


In tubes and in heart’s dance
I see you, from outside room.

Sitting on the waiting bench,
I wonder when hilarity stops,

As your heart feebly dances
On the light box by your side.

There are no new poor jokes.
You crack old ones in supply.