David Whalen Poems

With women I always strive
To be frank or earnest

I always try
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Powdered gold of pollen
Hanging lazily in the sun

Shaken loose from pungent blossoms
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My Front Yard…in Las Vegas Nevada

A hostile environment
A parched arid place
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Will this be
The last Spring
I see?
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When will Winter leave?
Frost and ice, …no longer nice!
When will Spring return? ? ?
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A greedy person’s Cold ambition
Or could it be Cold windy nights
The pureness of Cold clear water
Or the alien aspect of Cold neon lights
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There’s a beauteous moment of clarity…
When it happens

A flash of prismatic pleasure…
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Slats of sunshine…
laddered light

Beating back
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The minute of failure

The little boy’s body stiffened, then relaxed. Stiffened then relaxed. Eyes wide open, staring fixedly, and unseeing at the ceiling.
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