Small Poems

Maybe not quite small enough for this thread, but I love this beautiful poem by Saint Geraud (aka Bill Knott) from his first poetry volume, The Naomi Poems: Corpse and Beans (1968).


POEM
Saint Geraud

I am one man, worshipping silk knees,
picking myself from between my teeth,
I write these lines to cripple the dead,
to come up halt before the living:
I am one man, I run my hand over
your body, I touch the secret vibes
of the earth, I breathe your
heartbeat, Naomi, and always
I am one man alone at night. I fill my hands
with your dark hair
and offer it to the hollows of your face. I am one man,
searching,
alone at night
like a beacon of ashes. . . .
 
Blessed

Wonder fills my eyes and
doubly so, my heart, at how
shamrocks granted wishes
for serendipity.

Hex signs over the doors,
half a dozen at the very least,
weekly candle lighting with no
stop sign to slow us down,

September or November, I have forgotten,
Decades creep along just the same.
 
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cold​
the pillow​
comforts​
the comforter​
releases the tongue​


(by liChat)
 
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(from liChat)

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* * *​
my old bar​
i used to work there as a bartender​
i am back a customer​
o girl​
will you be a pretty bartender​
or a cute customer​
nobody steals my beer​
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* * *​

yesterday -- spring​
today -- spring​
should i trust you?

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One i remember reading in a chat once (30 years ago?). Inadvertently memorized it, not sure who wrote it.


Small dot, black spot.
Takes up space, but not a lot.
 
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