LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Poetry |
WHAT SCARES ME I think of you whenever I see my breath Or have an idea that I didnt expect to Or whenever I think I recognize someone from behind I think of you whenever I notice that my hair Has grown some Or when I hear birds go over Or am pouring water out somewhere Or if Im inside looking out at night I try to think of you carefully I think of you differently I think of you closely Anymore unless I remember something twice I wont remember it at all I think of you whenever a story is near its middle Or every time now that my shirt looks better than me. - Hiram Larew CENTRAL PARK A sudden rush escapes, ignited through a black mesh cloak worn old and intensely harsh. A field of strawberries send their scent from below the Dakota to This Boy, aching with wings of imaginary flight. With his wife, a blast, he falls. Tangled, Jostled, Magical Misery Tour. A sound storms above Echoes down Seventy-Second Street as a car drives off in the distance. I heard the news today on the radio. Oh boy. Wholl mind the skies, When the hero dies. Draped in white, His halo Aglow. (without electric) HE...calls my name. Imagine, a song a man a poet and visionary. Simple John. Dedicate a small green where pills are growing upside down. Selling his wares cheap to anyone with an extra dime. An answer to a prayer. The earth is so cold. Floating higher, going up falling to the street for the sake of peace every once in a while. Get back to where you once belonged. -Richard DAmbrosia |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 8, No. 10, July 31, 1998. |