Poetry Issue 15

   Issue #17 : July-December 2012

Peter Richards


      Time but to look at you smiles the comet
      in portent the comet heavy with children
      hibernal yes shouting comet to look at them

      is to know of a time before the disturbance
      time when mere thought was the man made
      manifest not knowing to the sun then if I

      was worth sighing over and from the peddlers
      would I not bend for some more blood
      trumpeting and would I not for some living

      horn and perhaps a few of these clear gray
      odeaon ships they are nothing if not the mural
      veering precipitous ships of course they are more

      more for landing directly on the mural more
      and only somewhat are they less spruce beloved
      long time friend of the poplar landing dish wise

      on the sun O sun who was glad to sit with me
      that day at the games so together we could say
      how they cut shout fat away

      and together we could woe did she lay sorrel
      most directly on the puffers and woe did she
      inflict gold last of all the murals