Appearing in a mirage, I wandered the Arizona desert for forty years, always alone, always lost. The heat takes its toll on verbs, not adjectives. There are not two ways to approach dehydration; only one, the one with symbols. Petroglyphs in rock show the way to live without presumptuous glory.
Then, tired of the blistering sands, turning to my later years I longed for the sea. The green currents called. So leaving the Gila mirage-maker behind wound my way to Massachusetts, to watch the sea examine what it created, and to die. more »
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Stan Petrovich Poems
And The Rains Came
After a 100-day drought Wringing the patience from everybody's pores, The rain finally enshrouded the concrete city; Strange hungry plants invaded odd corners,
I have lost my love of mankind, for his predominance and unstable stewardship of our inadvertently unstable planet earth; the errors that have occurred cannot be reversed: ask the polar bear, ask the space junk falling on our heads. Ask the dreary sun
He was a massive storm: He was never meant for the norm;
Life Can Be
Life can be a little pat, The limp handshake of a mounebank Who steals you blind. Life can be a poisoned substance,
In search of something real: to it it is nectar; When we look for ink, paper and nomenclature; For ours is a world of representation; The bee's is a world of satisfaction.
For you, my sweet; an apple in your mind's eye; a strudle in lieu of a pie. We would, if we could,
Man's Counless Fears
i am stuck here in some kind of walled-in pit; had i legs & arms i might climb out of it.
The Wine Of Samadhi
This is true: In a state of meditation (Straight) I left both mind and body behind
Wilson, Wickford and Dunne Were gunslingers and lawmen With a remarkable thing in common: They all had half-brothers they needed to kill.
Ode to Conformity
Do as I do, not as I say; Find an effing way; Go beyond the stupid teacher; Be your own inner creature.
Cations anions Come in strange colors Unlike fermions That are much duller
Boneless beasts Whose life is no more Than a wabble in the succulence of plankton, Far below light,
A lilting melody accompanies me Down the white-rock earthen path- Played by Pan, half man, And the air is an arc of rainbow drops,
Clouds By Number
Cloud Nine lived a life of fantasy, Barely conceding the existence of Cloud Eight, Who felt jealousy for Cloud Seven's Silver lining,
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
And The Rains Came
After a 100-day drought
Wringing the patience from everybody's pores,
The rain finally enshrouded the concrete city;
Strange hungry plants invaded odd corners,
And tales of woe became tales of defeat.
The cars & trams were uselessly
Bound in a fog that lasted sun to sun;
Peculiar denizens of the forest deep
Fell punctuating from the sky.
An epidemic of ricketts, were it not for
Vitamin D capsules, made way.
Some were not immune.
Posters of bowlegged young men
Dr. Armundsun invented a tea,
With the extracts of saffron, ...