Book Reviews
| Poetry from past issues
LOST like Botticelli was worthy of Spring I would be worthy of you leaving something that will endure How vain to think I could beastly weak embroiled sad I could make words endure exquisite,heartfelt & intelligent inhabiting the air ordinaries of all orders breathe & suffer and a thousand years from now they would smile and rejoice that we lived & loved and when for that moment I was I knowing my love for you was unconditional was the Dharma, Maitreya lives a perfect flower inside a drop of rain no longer without you no longer a slave to this pain You who are to me more than anything I can ever write or say more precious than all I have when you're away brighter than the sun sweeter than the day more precious than all I have when you're away Andy Clausen From 40th Century Man {Autonomectia, 1997} ANDY CLAUSEN & SHIV MIRABITO READ POETRY AT DHARMAWARE Woodstock, NY 7/9/05 A bright and fanciful space within the darkness of a thicket A revery of smoke and incense and powerful words danced across my caressing vision. Many-armed Shiva and wise Ganesha assumed a momentary presence in my monotheistic soul. Donald Lev _______________________ TODAY The universe begins on West 4th Street winds its way around Omaha, dips into the sun, makes a little bang and drops back to skip along Barrow Street like a stone: Life as we know it began dying on Bleecker Street one paper coffee cup at a time. 7th Avenue screamed in the red of traffic light, Andromeda cringed. The guardian angels of storefronts plucked their feathers from their wings until there were no more angels -everything's changing, everyone is suddenly a stranger-where are the stores, the shops? Today the universe has shrunk It can fit in the dot of a small "i". Frank Murphy _________________________ |
Poetry from passed issues
Song of Bo Baba If I see the sun rise I'll think I'm not thirsty Not hungry anymore If it is raining I'll think now I'm clean If an earthquake buries me I'll think ah! a new set of cloths If my arms fly off If a sword severs my head I'll think hooray, finally I'm getting somewhere From Songs of Bo Baba,translated by Andy Clausen (Shivastan, 2004) JUDGE, What is concocted at easel or pencilled onto winning tablet leaves everybody befuddled all but me Isee Expert in art I grant recognition (My wife got me onto committee she squeezed in here first) I, lieutenant, flag in lapel dispense the largess say "This is good!" 'This is Not!" This is best!" Any wonder they are chomping at the bit to get a quick start? (My own son plays chess at three taught by the best of tutors and Henrietta's girl is propped to ballet only a year after learning to walk) I love it here! Not quite king (that's bad in democracy) but a man freedom is shining on I change lives and channel the invisible make visible what the world sees though they comprehendeth not No! No! I do not play with words Oh no!I am not god Roberta Gould |
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