The Wind Throws Back

I lied when I told you I didn't have 
a phone number, she said. I wasn't
sure about you, but now that I know
you're sane & responsible—aren't you?— 
I'm going to throw caution to the wind 
& hope it doesn't blow back in my face.  
But if you ever spent any time in a mental hospital 
I'd like to know. I won't let 
it prejudice me against you. 
I'm willing to give you a chance, 
provided you get a letter from a psychiatrist 
stating your case was closed.

by Hal Sirowitz

Believing in Fate

I don't have a telephone, she said, 
so I can't give you a number. 
I'm not a great fan of planned dates. 
But if I happen to bump into you
on the street I'd be willing to go for coffee. 
Let's leave it to chance. It brought
us together once. It could work a second time. 
You could help fate along by hanging out
in Chelsea. That's where I live. If I
gave you any more information I'd be cheating. 

by Hal Sirowitz

Just to Feel Human

A single apple grew on our tree, which
was some kind of miracle because it was a
pear tree. We walked around it scratching
our heads. "You want to eat it?" I asked
my wife. "I'd die first," she replied. We
went back into the house. I stood by the
kitchen window and stared at it. I thought
of Adam and Eve, but I didn't believe in Adam
and Eve. My wife said, "If you don't stop
staring at that stupid apple I'm going to go
out there and eat it." "So go," I said, "but
take your clothes off first, go naked." She
looked at me as if I were insane, and then
she started to undress, and so did I.


by James Tate

Slow Drag Blues

I don't believe in sex

after marriage.
---My wife does, just

not with me.
---I plead the Fifth

of whisky. I am close

to perfecting a theory
---of forgettability.

Grief a dog
---that keeps dogging me---

Good Grief,
---I say. It's me

he's teaching to beg---

my next anniversary
---is newspaper, yesterday's---

lining my cage---
---Tomorrow the day

I hope to learn to stay.


by Kevin Young

i've come again

i've come again
like a new year
to crash the gate
of this old prison

i've come again
to break the teeth and claws
of this man-eating
monster we call life

i've come again
to puncture the
glory of the cosmos
who so mercilessly
destroys humans

i am the falcon
hunting down the birds
of black omen
before their flights

i gave my word
at the outset to
give my life
with no qualms
i pray to the Lord
to break my back
before i break my word

how do you dare to
let someone like me
intoxicated with love
enter your house

you must know better
if i enter
i'll break all this and
destroy all that

if the sheriff arrives
i'll throw the wine
in his face
if your gatekeeper
pulls my hand
i'll break his arm

if the heavens don't go round
to my heart's desire
i'll crush its wheels and
pull out its roots

you have set up
a colorful table
calling it life and
asked me to your feast
but punish me if
i enjoy myself

what tyranny is this?

by Rumi

Employed

She just wants to be employed
for eight hours a day. She is not
interested in a career; she wants a job
with a paycheck and free parking. She
does not want to carry a briefcase filled
with important papers to read after
dinner; she does not want to return
phone calls. When she gets home, she
wants to kick off her shoes and waltz
around her kitchen singing, "I am a piece
of work."


by Beverly Rollwagen

Essential

She just wants to keep her essential
sorrow. Everyone wants her to
be happy all the time, but she doesn't
want that for them. There is value in
the thread of sadness in each person.
The sobbing child on an airplane, the
unhappy woman waiting by the phone,
a man staring out the window past his
wife. A violin plays through all of them,
one long note held at the beginning and
the end.


by Beverly Rollwagen

The Painter of the Night

Someone called in a report that she had

seen a man painting in the dark over by the

pond. A police car was dispatched to go in-

vestigate. The two officers with their big

flashlights walked all around the pond, but

found nothing suspicious. Hatcher was the

younger of the two, and he said to Johnson,

"What do you think he was painting?" Johnson

looked bemused and said, "The dark, stupid.

What else could he have been painting?" Hatcher,

a little hurt, said, "Frogs in the Dark, Lily-

pads in the Dark, Pond in the Dark. Just as

many things exist in the dark as they do in

the light." Johnson paused, exasperated. Then

Hatcher added, "I'd like to see them. Hell,

I might even buy one. Maybe there's more out

there than we know. We are the police, after-

all. We need to know."

by James Tate

On the Subject of Doctors

I like to see doctors cough.

What kind of human being

would grab all your money

just when you're down?

I'm not saying they enjoy this:

"Sorry, Mr. Rodriguez, that's it,

no hope! You might as well

hand over your wallet." Hell no,

they'd rather be playing golf

and swapping jokes about our feet.

Some of them smoke marijuana

and are alcoholics, and their moral

turpitude is famous: who gets to see

most sex organs in the world? Not

poets. With the hours they keep

they need drugs more than anyone.

Germ city, there's no hope

looking down those fire-engine throats.

They're bound to get sick themselves

sometime; and I happen to be there

myself in a high fever

taking my plastic medicine seriously

with the doctors, who are dying.

by James Tate

We Laughed

my friend
we flirted
and we were so smart
we were witty
and we knew what we
were thinking
and we were surprised
by our own thoughts
and we laughed
and we laughed

by Rochelle Kraut