at the club

at the club my grandfather soames who made the family fortune had difficulty getting his point across to my grandmother emily or to women in general or to servants, foreigners, cab drivers, birds, cats or even dogs but with horses and men of his own class he got on very well indeed when the automobile replaced the horse he was devastated and never really recovered his eldest son, my cousin edmund who had heretofore (am i using that word correctly?) languished in his father's shadow became a champion race car driver and quite the most famous member of the family his exploits had to be followed in the new york times because the transcript, of course regarded them as unworthy of notice i could go on in this vein for a while yet but i fear that i am boring you please forgive me would you like another drink?

madness

madness doctor, am i going mad? please be the friend i never had tell me, are things what they seem or are they only just a dream? doctor, doctor, please tell me is this life but a fantasy? why in all the wide world free must only i have eyes to see? now am i afraid to sleep lest creatures from the the swirling deep rise up and swallow not just me but all so-called humanity why must i who had such faith be now a disappearing wraith? why must i lie in this dark room my brain the screen of universal doom?

talkin

talkin i talked to the wind and the wind died down i talked to the trees and they all left town i talked to the stars and they faded away i talked to the night and it turned to day i talked to a flower on a windowsill i called it bob and it said, i'm bill i talked to a bottle lying in the gutter it looked up at me and its eyelids fluttered i talked to the drops that were still left in it they looked up at me and said, hold on a minute i talked to the glass when the bottle broke when it fell on the sidewalk through a cloud of smoke i talked to the smoke as it drifted away and then - i had nothing more to say

walkin

walkin i saw your mom at fourth and main the clock struck twelve and it started to rain she didn't hurry to get indoors but kept on walkin with the rest of the _______ i kept on walkin, the rain didn't stop a few blocks down i saw your pop in front of the pet store where they sell canaries with his hand on his hip with the rest of the _______ i saw your girl friend sitting all alone eating horn and hardat out of house and home now maybe some people like it like that but she'll never get to heaven because she's too ______ i saw your grandpa, the poor old fool dressed in his coffin like he's ready for school the undertaker said, i don't know what he did but he's so ugly i can't close the ______

freedom

freedom's just another word for something - i forget freedom's just a word, they say - and yet every night we dream - and of what? only freedom - the door we can never shut why else in dreams do we fly? or care if we die? the murmurs from a distant shore there must be, must be something more i ran away to find it, many years ago walked the empty highways, in sun and snow waiting for freedom to call my name but the beautiful whispering voice never came the only voice that came to me was asking for my i d at the end of the endless trail the dreams were all for sale

2 poems

nowhere outside the tightest window beyond the dimmest star a little man is watching who knows who you really are there is no use pretending and trying to be "yourself" he will catch you when you try to run and put you back on the shelf you can roll your little eyes at the other dolls beside you they will just stare straight ahead so faithful, brave and true so listen to the music as soft as falling snow there is nowhere to go there is nowhere, nowhere to go peace i went down to the river to buy my dog a bone and the river looked so peaceful i had to throw a stone the ripples in the water were like a great big smile and i sat and smiled back at it for quite a little while my dog walked down the river bank till he found another hound but the racket that they ruckused did not disturb the peace i found the daylight whispered slowly until it finally bled away i don't know what my dog thought but i had had a perfect day

the old dark house (hommage a gorey)

the reverend edward gorey told a most edifying story and illustrated his strictures with finely executed pictures children neither seen or heard devoured every pious word and satan's wiles they upbraided as into the woodwork they faded their elders were uplifted too by tales so moral, stark, and true and sat upright in morris chairs exchanging baleful nods and glares in shadowy conservatories they mumbled their unlikely stories with particular attention to the chances of outliving their inheritances ashen aunts with dwindling dollars unctuous uncles in starched collars comatose cousins on silent settees with tired teacups on their knees upstairs maids with drooping tresses silent brooding governesses manservants with creaking limbs in hallways dark and doorways dim parrots with small vocabularies needy nephews sipping sherries reptiles lost behind chaises longues divas mumbling forgotten songs and to complete the mournful frieze moths who never felt a breeze dogs who answer no human call and cats - the worst of all