Le Chantier, kafé - bistro - virtuel

Law H. Fisher Poetry Part One


I. About Approach

1. Along the Journey toward the Destination: Points Unexpectedly known

2. Bright Road Dirt Dandelion

II. Sensational Tuners

1. Umbilical Tornadoes

2. Luminescence

III. The Blur

1. Octavio Paz' Forgotten One Night Poem

2. Only Thunder

IV. Harmony

1. Renewal (a haiku)

2. Sequence




Along the Journey toward the Destination: Points Unexpectedly
Kisses, embraces, smiles, squints and hopes;
businessmen, students, loved-ones, mourners and terrorists;
do-gooders, idiots, nobodies and someone else;
all on the tarmac as the atmosphere greets the earth with fury.
A complicated gnashing of gears gives off a highly technical
sound of precision;
reverse thrusters rumble toward crescendo;
seatbelt buckles clackle unhinged in a sort of applause.
We rise in unison and stammer down the narrow and congested
exitway toward improved kisses, embraces, smiles, squints and
hopes -- toward superior do-gooders, idiots, nobodies and
everyone else.
Be careful: overhead ideas may have shifted during flight.


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Bright Road Dirt Dandelion
Plow trucks dumped cinder, salt and ash repeatedly over this road.
  A corrosive accumulation of black/grey/white-speckled grit
    settled in place of the cold white ice.
       Mystifying how anything might emerge from underneath this waste.
         But suddenly, on the periphery of a new season, before the
           crocus or daffodil or forsythia or hyacinth, there it was:
              the yellow head of a bright road dirt dandelion.
                Brilliant glint of light out of vast darkness.
                  Hope out of nothing.
                    At last.

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Umbilical Tornadoes

Earth is hatched from sky
with tornadoes dangling downward in evidence.
They twist and knot the felty groves of clover
no different from the dense mountainside acreage.
Clouds cling backward to the ridges,
a sort of afterbirth
Behold the result now and here:
cool orange newts crushed by mesozoic clamshells;
bees and goldfish, strange earthfellows but for the thin gurgle of
a trickling spring;
matted debris heaves up dust and sprouts this verse like a sneeze
in the wake of grinding pepper.
Catch a visual whiff of this scene, as birth breaks with unusual aromatics.
The cord is severed,
and life remains behind to await more birth.


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On the airplane over South America,
as the sun rises at 4:30 a.m.,
I am exposed for the better.

Sometime during the night, the flight attendants moved
with stealth about the cabin
closing all the window shades.

Awakening, absolute darkness covers the cabin,
not even the "no smoking" sign or seatbelt icon are illuminated.
I am the only passenger awake.

Raising my shade, the outside atmosphere bursts.
The sun's nucleus cracks the horizon on my face;
warm spirit oozes out.

The sensation of droning engines evaporates into luminescence.

Startling, a flight attendant breaks in:
"excuse me sir, but the light from your window is illuminating
this entire cabin, please close your shade."

My response travels at least 525 miles per hour:
"this light is pure poetry,
how can I close the shade on such a thing?"

The attendant's face becomes blank of purpose,
she surrenders the light from her eyes onto mine,
smiles her unspoken "good morning," as she turns away.

Later, another attendant brings back the black message:
"outside your window the world indeed appears poetic, but as a
courtesy to those who can not bear it you must close your shade."

Closing the shade I suppose that no poem can escape an ending.


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Octavio Paz' Forgotten One-Night Poem

The dust bowl that is this house.
Let people in
in the flesh,
only on the page.
Ice fishing on thick sheaths of pond.
A fist of faces on a mutant fish.
Lightening scorches in a snow storm.
Still shadow winds followed by cosmetic surgery.
Milk of sun and rain.
always glimmering,
strings on a musical instrument.
Amber gunk ceases the quivering gnat.
never more quivering,
wings of a gnat.
Backlit dunce.
oh so equivocating,
mind (if you'd call it that).
The orchestra bowl that is the verse.
Put something out
out of one's mind,
only from not rage.
Thought dancing on ripe membranes of time.
A rail of hope in the heart's stomach.
Sugar hardening into lumps in grandmother's cupboard.
An alchemy for air into chocolate
followed by celebration.
forever tinkering,
with the essence of mankind.

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Only Thunder

Shaken out of an immediately forgotten dream
the end of this world is an imminent sensation.
The force of a megaton bomb exploding over Pittsburgh,
or an asteroid the size of God evaporating lake Erie,
dredges across the snow- and daffodil-covered ridges here.
Barometric pressure fluctuates rapidly.
Maybe a jumbo jet has crashed nearby with all 547 aboard
"presumed dead."
All of a sudden, trapezoid chunks of ice descend onto the land.
They bauble and ricochet indiscriminately.
Then rain, without intention,
quenches all
and thunder,
only thunder,
has rest assuredly passed.


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Renewal (a haiku)


Any man struggles
Sheds his skin like a reptile
Leaves behind a ghost


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On stop

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All poems by Law H. Fisher.
Copyright Fisher©1997-2001
Copyright ©1997-2005 by Claymont Publishing Company