Two Poems

 

In the Drear Light of Zoo

I see my shadow

Elongated

Etiolated, uprooted

And high

Plugged into the miracle

Of electricity

 

I buzz harmonies

Of post-bop Kabala

The Caliban of a soul I have

Crouches in hiding

 

In the drear light of zoo

I see Ginsbergian Angels

Kerouacian slipsters

Drunk on the wine of egoism and selflessness

And Clifford Brown blows his horn

Against the brick and the stone of Manhattan

And I, in a Montreal basement, contemplate, emulate

The sonic hieroglyphs

In hope of ascending

To the godliness I have been denied

 

In the drear light of zoo

All will come to be

And the glowing revelations

Will flood the mind

Like an instantaneous

Nuclear flash

And you will be transported

In imaginary boxcars, boxcars, boxcars

To far away fields

Where beauty never fades

And be eaten by the alligators of forgiveness.

 

Transcontinental metaphysical connections will dissolve

Like cotton candy in a child’s hands on a holiday in July

The midsummer madness, like a wise elephant parading the street and everyone

Cheering, the clouds, the sky for showing up

And the sun that shines like stage lights shimmering off a saxophone returns you to prayer

 

 

What Dreams I Have of You Tonight Walt Disney

 

What dreams I have of you tonight Walt Disney

A mouse from which emerged a man

Whose love was

at first the plastic squeak

of a two-cent toy.

Whose lines first ran mute

in black and white

then in sonorous technicolour

 

Whose affinities were with the underdog

until that underdog

built shopping paradises

all over the land

established band-name

recognition, set up fan

club, theme song

 

and before long the myth full-blown

spread the word of enterprise

the veneer of imagination

 

What dreams I have of you tonight Walt Disney

Walt? Can you hear me?

Don’t you know we’re depending on you to return

to walk upon muddy waters

to save us from the blues?

 

Come down from your cartoon cross

jump out of the freeze-frame

into the eternal rerun.

Let towers fall in Babylon

let the airwaves jam

let the shopping malls

crumble.

 

Walt Disney. Lonely old money-grubber.

Wake us from our supermarket nightmare.

  • Alan Heffez

    Nicely turned Paul, especially, In the Drear Light. Something powerful bursting in along the clipped edges. In solidarity.