The Clarion Literary Supplement
Page 5
Siiii idt' Slowly for l.ark of Another Weapon
He's (I painter of dreiims
(I (lancer of thoughts
The truth is near
lAke a snake in a zoo.
So ( lose it should hite...
Still enclosed.
lie's searchinn-
Too easily, too convenientiv condemning.
Like (I parent icilh the world as a child
.Seeing what harm the child
does to himself.
Suicide slowly for lack of another weapon.
He's different-
Like while in a rainbow
vet white is the rainbow of light.
Through his painting and dancing
He glimpses the snake.
Carolyn Blount
TO GRADUATES
Waiting before the mirror of the universe
A serpentine line of youth
Flowing with ribbons
Each of which by its color
Denotes a family of the mind.
Standing bfore a high oracle
Who invested by themselves.
Each is offered a parchment cylinder
Then bid recline upon
A shining stone couch.
“In the name of Zeus, ” the oracle cries.
As the ceremonial ax dissects
The human cavity to bear
The entrails to the inspection
Of a religious prophetic eve.
Unlike those ancient Hellenic youths.
Whose bones now the dust imbibes
These sacrifices ri.te
As Phoenix from the ashes
Out of hooks past read, and
Micro-chips worn to obsolescence.
To stellar heights, and
(-ybernetical enclaves.
Dusty dungeons from the past
Refurbished into electric svmmetrv.
Kitches void of warmth
But charged with microwaves.
Why build aslvums for the mind.
Hospitals without beds.
Life without living.
These dangers are not netv.
But rather old ones
Who mas(juerade themselves
phantoms born as clones
Afresh with each generation.
Survival becomes a motto
Mandated not b'i' genetics.
But by a pubescent naivete
A knight born out of time.
4 romantic
Wh
VciiA5. ''
Seashelis
iWiir^i* . -.'61^ •
Etching by Brenda Jones
The Kitten and the Power Mower: a Parable
He’s a prophet in the purest sense
of present, past, and future tense:
the absolutely crowned master —
captain of complete disaster.
Flung like furry flower petals
from a whirlwind of base metals;
made to paint the mad green earth:
the spray of sudden sacred mirth.
His feathered lusts, rat appetites—
all fish-bewildered, ball delighted;
his fur he musk the scent and form,
upon the lap purr, cuddle warm.
Betrayed again, the bold green eyes:
the ancient cowled blade arise;
a fatalist, he face the facts
and bloodymindedly reacts.
Cruelty
is the cutting edge
of the sculpting tool
of the Gods.
David Drury
'ose im[>etus is beaut v
Whose only virtue is love.
Siirviral is not for the fittest
But. rather the thoughtfid.
Charlie Gibbons
imPIRATION
In the now of long ago
you came to me;
In the scarce-live coals
I find traces of your warmth
That surges through my veins
until I struggle to gain
another plateau.
Knowing your smile will
greet me again there
in that captured future
of long ago.
Moselle Vickers
WRIGHTSVILLE HEACH
Early September
the water so clear
I see my toes
through shoulder depth.
Gentle the waves this morning.
Yesterday the surf
would pull and strain
until my every fiber
awakened to defy it.
This morning the gentle waves
embrace me;
a cradle rocking
a body renewed.
Tonight from my balcony
the wind and the sea
call their mysteries;
white wave caps
wrestling in the light
of the fishing boat,
losing life on the shore;
only to pull away again
to reunite with itself
and find new life
in its mysterious depths
an awesome, respected sea.
Moselle Vickers