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Site design: Skeleton

Sample Poems by DeWitt Clinton


The Way We Live


Some still impress us with thick portfolios.
Some notice only the waxing moon.
If we look somewhere, we'll never see the breezes.
If we remember, we can't count all beneath us.

The Age of Terror may never end.
Fear keeps us texting whr r u?
Is there any place we haven't heard about?
On the Black Sea, none of us may eat.

I arrived crying, and still do.
I only laugh at the blue screen.
Every day, I hear judges,
Hope for any reduced sentence.

It's harder to know, for sure,
Unless your boot fills my breath.
Sure, everyone is a friend
But no one speaks anymore.

Don't be certain what you see
Don't regret what's been whispered.
Go ahead, dream, but don't be scared.
Soon that's all we'll do.

Someday the rains will fall inside our homes.
Cold baths, day and night.
Then we'll escape to the roof
Only to see the sea, everywhere.

The axis will not change.
The clouds evaporate into Greek stars.
On our backs, clammy, we'll count how
Far away we are, knowing we're not there yet.



Pausing, Briefly, In A Moment of Fog

Yesterday, pushing up a hill, in fog, fog lights
Of drivers keeping me to the right, I hear
Behind me the lovely honking of visiting
Geese who fly along the coast line just
Below the fog. When they pass over
I turn and look up, careful to watch
For falling fecal matter that would
Ruin everything, so perfect, Canadians
On their way home, fog that keeps
All of us in silence, the hill that still
Needs to be ascended, and then
It all disappears and no moment
Like this will ever come by like the
Friend it has been, lonely, disappearing.



On Hearing of So Many Dead


Things are bad of course, as bad as ever, as bad
As any of us ever thought the world could be
But then sometimes I hear crickets or mourning doves
And wonder why they haven't disappeared from us
Then I begin to think not everything is quite so bad
So I can without any fear open the back door and go
Down to the little creek that runs through our land
And listen carefully to what the owls already know,
And what the night life has for plans to keep on living.
I look up and see a huge yellow moon, hear the
Cracking of sticks as if something is moving somewhere
And nowhere do I think it's going to be bad, unless
Of course, something moves with such stealth that
I hardly notice when someone suddenly is not there.


Something, Something


We have to find stuff, everyday
Or we'll run out of stuff, everyday
But finding stuff with you that
Has made all the difference.
We need gas to go somewhere
We need food to keep going somehow
We need lots of prescriptions as
We're not as young as we'd like.
We don't need help yet going
Down the stairs, but pretty soon
One of us will probably hold
The other going up maybe down.
We do need each other's hands
To know we're just that far away.
We're okay on air though one
Of us got junky stuff down there
And had docs and nurses for days
And days, but that's all over now,
For now. We're salting less so
When we're out and something's
Salty, we talk a lot about the salt.
In company we try very hard not
To talk about what hurts, but then
Almost everyone is talking about
What hurts even if it's painful
Politics that makes us blab on so.
We still shampoo and shave as
The public view is still something
We don't ever want to forget just yet.
We're not into earth colors anymore
As we'll be earth colors soon enough.
One of us uses a walker and the other
Is learning how to race and walk but
We always arrive on the day someone
Thinks we're expected even if we're not.
We both have wondered why not that
Is something both of us can nod about.
We howl and howl over terrible dog &
Cat shows and wonder what's going on
With our constantly shrinking brains
That makes us curl up on the floor
Over some of the most idiotic scenes
But then we're glad really glad to be
Able to find a way to get ourselves
Back up and ready for something,
Of course, it doesn't really matter
So much anymore, as long as there's
Just something, something more.