LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Poetry |
by Hiram Larew |
PART OF The vines stuff probably thought you were a rabbit And the birds maybe they laughed at your no shoes But the smell of grace somehow coming out of the trees Like potato steam Gave it all away That you were just visiting short stay And probably wouldn't come here again Circle back here It's right that people used to Give clips of hair as for a lifetime gifts to one another And would keep them for charm wherever they'd go It's hard to think of anything better than a curl That could help them feel part of each other When gone Going is always going It never stops leaving Or waving What in the world do we do With these wish we would haves When they start to stand up all around us. EVERYONE SAYS All of my fortunes are exactly like the bird In a neighbor's tree Tonight singing To sleep with something like that going on Is surely terrific If I could change anything It would be the chance to listen to Lovers humming at each other the first few times Like farmers do at breakfast Silent as new leaves Everyone has problems of the tallest kind And always will Believe me though the answer is To watch somebody very closely Nothing is as encouraging as straw Or those kinds of subtle movements If the whole world ever switches much It will be from learning finally That history's made out in outer space Or in one or two wild glances. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 9, No. 8, July 2, 1999 |