Jan Sand Poems
- The Poet As Dr, Frankenstein My floor is littered With ...
- Foggy, Foggy Blues There is a morning fog here That rises ...
- The Funny Old Man There was an old man who was lonely and ...
- Midnight Wind At The Carnival The chill air tumbles down from...
- The Master And His Palimpsest I do not know who I am nor ...
- Poetic Justice In the world of wizards Where words can ...
- Choreography The waltz of warmth That dances in and out Of ...
Originally a New Yorker. Currently a resident of Helsinki, Finland more »
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The Poet As Dr, Frankenstein
My floor is littered
The older they get,
The more they stink.
Each one began with great hope.
The idea was the seed.
Three or four words
That held hands in cunning design.
Poised, I thought, to dance and laugh.
Some of my blood,
Some of my guts
Was fitted to their syntax.
I rocked back their heads.
Their eyes opened with a clack.
'Dance! ' I commanded.
Each in turn faltered, spun,
Seemed, to my ear to have grace.
I left each one to live.
When I returned to look again,
They lay there on the floor
In disordered clumsy ...