Llama Express
across the Andean Alps
on bygone empire trails
like vagabonds traversing
on woolen backs and hooves
the dust rises behind them
the wind sweeps their fur
pots and pans, ceramic things
this road train ever moves
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Harvest Dreaming
in my muddle-minded daze
a rustic song rising up
tendrilled smoke drifting southward
'Go home, ' spoke the lone nettle
still standing silent, weeping
shady sheaves heavy: waiting;
tomorrows bursting with grain.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Morphed Illusions
what are we to do
about shadows in the mirror
pray tell before they rise -
filling in memories
of film noir and poetry
dark or brooding
states of alienation
blaring piano forte
of shadowy symphonics:
inimitable contrivances.
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Modular Nonconformity
`
Never too early, never too late;
Life can be a heaped-up plate.
Today you are comfy, tomorrow, lost;
Yesterday's loss determines the cost.
The future disguises no blemishes.
Hope's a parachute that never vanishes.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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From Swords to Plowshares
A field of crop
once was a battlefield (red)
now feeds a remnant -
They that survived
the young that gave up their lives
so that this plot of land
Might remain in this nation
to fly its flag
and export its blood-bought grain.
poem by Frederick Kesner
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The Man Made Perfect
`
Every woman is perfect
every woman a breathe divine
every woman is individual
let each one uniquely shine.
The man that wakes up
and embraces this splendid truth
will have gained the world
and find himself perfect too.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Evening Prayer
`
Away,
fly and float in the drifts.
Go,
brandish the hilt and strike
against a cloudless sky.
Back
in the shadows, whisper.
Come
forward to hear better.
Leave
your shoes on; come
Alone -
is where yesterday hid
[...] Read more
poem by Frederick Kesner
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A Caterpillar Returns
`
transformations:
spinning
weaving
coccooning
ensh roudedness
spelunking
abseiling
rapp eling
abscondedness
protruding
esche wing
amnesic
metamorphoses
[...] Read more
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Kitchen Sink
my finger traces
a still barely
visible band
on my 4th finger
our ex-anniversary
is now my memory
a constant companion
to might-have-beens
yesterday had so much
prospect and promise
today I face a sink
full of dirty dishes
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Dream Weaver
I will shut my eyes
to the darkness
pull the bedcovers
to my chin
I will whistle invites
to the dreamweaver
press my cheek
to my downy pillow
I will snore, as they say
to ruffle night's silence
prop my fluffy teddy
to my shoulder
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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