Le Chantier, kafé - bistro - virtuel

Law H. Fisher Poetry Part Two


I. The Openness of Savvy

1. I'm No Sacagawea

2. Faggot, Jew, Poet, Lawyer

II. Firmament

1. Storms Come

2. Wet Dreams

3. Borrowed Time, April, 2005




I'm No Sacagawea

No shout to guide you cross an uncharted lay
over land innate to my being,
nor Shepherd to show you the bravest way
in time for all worth seeing,
and trace with death-wish adventure
an outback bareback by want,
nor your manifest destiny of pleasure
ordained in the hegemony hunt.
Nor words are these to direct you
down the path of grief and tear,
beyond all of those who
hate and doubt in fear.
No guidance can I give, rather, follow not my foray.
Still, I am my brother's keeper by keeping him away.

up to contents




Faggot, Jew, Poet, Lawyer

Aztec, aphid, seahorse and mule
bring suit against Christmas
then crawl the Internet
to get fucked by dick-size-measuring lunatics
as source material for your writing

warring against placid hope with a stubborn staunch
yet able to find love and make a serene exit on paper. . . .

emanating a light constituted from time reflecting on time

as the better gods of our being surely overcome
the worst devils of our nature.

up to contents




 Storms Come

Let the storm come
bringing furious rage.
Let it come
down over age.
Let the storm come
wash away earth.
Let it come
about your birth.
Let the storm come
as ever it will.
Let it come.
Be still.

up to contents




        Wet Dreams

In a dream of clear water –
prosperity and happiness came,
followed by muddy-streamed misfortune in a nap.
A drink of dirty water in a day dream
portends bad things down stream.
Water falls in the deepest dreams.
Wavy steps –
whitecaps on the soul –
success when clear,
when cloudy, failure flows.
Danger from a turbulent current
rein the fluctuations of life.
Then dreams of being wet
foretell of pleasures in the night.
From playing with water sudden passion rolls
over rivers of the mind
and settles this plankton thought
in soggy sleep.

up to contents




Borrowed Time, April 2005
in the morning haze
of the newmillenniumm
apostolic nomenclature aside
hot guys everywhere
feeling like one of them
at 38
never better
you are the word
the line
the way

up to contents



All poems by Law H. Fisher.
Copyright Fisher©2002-2005
Copyright ©2002-2005 by Claymont Publishing Company