MICHAEL
Thirty years and more
since the priest in plaid
passed on the madness that
drives us through a wondering world
Author Archives: neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
SUSAN
SUSAN
A boat of beauty
cuts thorough chaos
gentle order in her wake
MANIWAKI MOON
MANIWAKI MOON
Through the sacred fire at the sacred lake
by the tree twice lightning struck
sacred tobacco and sacred cedar
burned in a sacred way
We circle and leave by the Eastern door
GRANDMOTHER GEORGINA
GRANDMOTHER GEORGINA
moves between the worlds
ties them together
three stitches to each bead
BERT BUILDS A SHED
BERT BUILDS A SHED
Bert is a gentle man
wakes early with no hurry
and drives nails all day
with a gentle fury
THE LADY WHO EATS SNOW
THE LADY WHO EATS SNOW
There is a lovely sad lady in Texas
who eats snow in her dreams
writes about young wolves
and the order of the hunt
During the long dark winter
the lady who eats snow
grows larger and nearer to herself
The ice of the river is in her glass
she is two margaritas short of a howl
Soon she will dream
of Alpha wolves
and water
INTO THE WEB
INTO THE WEB
In you is the love making
of teeth and claws
and the severing of limbs
While Mister Black Widow
even knowing the end of the act
Leaps into the web and
pulls it to him with
all eight arms
FOR IUDITA
FOR IUDITA
(a child of the survivors)
Artists without hands
hold the brush with their feet
Without hands or feet
hold the brush in their teeth
As for me and my friend
all that remains is the navel
And small circles
in the center of
the canvas
HOLOCAUST IN THE NEW MILLENNIUM
HOLOCAUST IN THE NEW MILLENNIUM
This is the age of the coming of age
of the children
The children
of those who fed the fires
and of those who fed the flames
And we
who are the children of neither
are the children of both
And this may be the last time
this can be healed in time
Or are we to have a new calendar
so much like the old
where 2000 pages are torn off
and the pinup remains the same
Already 60 years A.D. (Anno Dachau)
still counting still counting still counting
THE POET LAUREATE AT NINETY FIVE
THE POET LAUREATE AT NINETY FIVE
The new poet laureate is ninety five
he’s been working on his demons
for a long long time
Six weeks before the poet was born
his father burns his demons out
by drinking carbolic acid in the park
Mother burns father’s pictures
forbids mention of his name
Young Stanley finds one in the attic
and asks about the man
She tears the picture to shreds
without a word
and slaps him hard
six decades later he still felt the sting
Bright boy gets scholarship to Harvard
okay but forget about teaching classes
these were not the days when a Jewish boy
could teach their ivy league asses
Marries a poet, move to honeymoon farm
she disappears never to be heard from again
The new poet laureate has had plenty of pain
each day he wakes as a poet
not a man of ninety five
still seeing everything new
still glad to be alive