LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Poetry |
by Hiram Larew |
LEVEL Lay over my leg Eat as if You were an orphan Up a tree Be meek as a candle Look up at me like a fish does when it hears Splashing Pause long enough and close enough To frighten my future Add sound to my birthmark Trade in this wonderful feeling of slanting For more of Somehow Breathe as though you can't begin to believe What I'm whispering And beyond breathing When you've just about turned into something else Pardon me for willing us To go further. IF HE NEVER HEARS THIS There's no pattern to what disappears Nothing to make sure that our ideas are everlasting Or repeated In fact we can't predict what stays or lingers Or leaves It may be that water wells Especially their walls Know the secret of this yearning Somehow fireworks do too coming down But mostly we know that everyone we know Is just water And all we are are snaps Never ask anyone anything directly Be a swan's neck So that you find out everything by guessing And for balance Imagine loving so much that it feels like You are unscrewing the lid of a jar And going The boring point is this The best friend to make is chance Do whatever it takes To wake up tangled in the arms of maybe Start to trust what you've done For as long as a blink Mostly think like a windy corner. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 9, No. 3, April 9, 1999 |