Light and Dark
Poems by Marc Isaac Potter
Apples
You get to the apples.
Friday night the super market
Is jammed.
One apple.
Some how
It shines more,
Or it is lying there in such a
Presentable way.
You notice.
You reach for it.
You pick it up, purposefully.
And that purposefulness
Leads to another apple,
And another,
Until
You have as many as you need.
~ ~
Any Person
Your blue sports sedan, rounding the November curve,
Losing control, and you lose control.
With seconds, there you lay.
Upside down, pinned inside the car,
On a mountain road..
Where is the damn cell phone!
Where is the damn cell phone!
All the time that was ever invented
Or pretended to be invented.
Passes your way.
But not any cars.
Not a dump truck, not an 18 wheeler,
Not joy riding kids, not a stodgy old man
Just back from visiting her grand kids.
You think of your family,
How much you love them.
And you wish for any person,
Any person at all.
Flowers
by Shannon Holmsten
Photo by Cassidy Luver:
The Visit
I enter your home.
We bow and sit.
The tea water Boils.
A child bicycles past .
Her puppy barks off key.
It is perfect.
We bow and sit.
The tea water Boils.
A child bicycles past .
Her puppy barks off key.
It is perfect.
~~
Greeting
I don’t think I’ll mind
Getting older,
As much as I thought I would.
I push the white car door open,
Hoping it will stay.
I take in the heady broccoli,
Yellow onions, red potatoes,
Mixed greens, and 2 % milk,
These perishable groceries.
I’ll make another trip
Up the tan plywood stairs
And dark stained railing
Tomorrow
With the canned goods.
The trees,
And the small brown birds,
Both singing in their own way,
Greet me home.
I have never known their names,
Nor do they know my name.
Without names,
The birds, the trees,
And the man who walks under them
Are love.
~~
Poem Four
The Labrador
Is a beautiful dog.
She stands at the door
And whines.
Mourning
The beating of a
Child across the street.
The Labrador
Is a beautiful dog.
She stands at the door
And whines.
Mourning
The beating of a
Child across the street.
~~
For Carol
I lift Carol’s wheel chair
Out of the 1986
White Ford Tempo
Black Birds
on the telephone line.
For we two love birds
A gentleman swings
The Coffee Shop door
Open, and smiles.
I lift Carol’s wheel chair
Out of the 1986
White Ford Tempo
Black Birds
on the telephone line.
For we two love birds
A gentleman swings
The Coffee Shop door
Open, and smiles.
~~
The Study of Ego
The Hungry Ego
Is a Blackbird
Perched
In a Pitch Black Room
Pecking at itself
In a Mirror.
~~
Rachmaninoff
( note: It has been said in some of
Rachmaninoff’s Compositions,
the notes are so thick that they
are on top each other. They blacken
the page and become nearly unreadable. )
My -
Attempts;
At letters to you,
My dearest teacher,
Adyashanti.
Over these many years
My letters -
Like a Rachmaninoff
Composition,
Are unreadable.
I labor for weeks
Creating fire-starter,
Fully appropriate.
( note: It has been said in some of
Rachmaninoff’s Compositions,
the notes are so thick that they
are on top each other. They blacken
the page and become nearly unreadable. )
My -
Attempts;
At letters to you,
My dearest teacher,
Adyashanti.
Over these many years
My letters -
Like a Rachmaninoff
Composition,
Are unreadable.
I labor for weeks
Creating fire-starter,
Fully appropriate.
