STANLEY PACION Poems

Water in the forest, terrible black water,
A pond over rot and dead leaves,
You lie silent, quiet, you, you stay still,
Unmoving, yet the storm rages around the wood,
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I hate and I love,
You might ask, how do I explain it?

I do not know,
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Johnny! It's Lesbia*, our Lesbia,
The Lesbia, that girl Stanley loved,
Loved more than self and all he calls his own,
Now at the Great Hall, Chicago, Union Station,
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RED ROOF INN,
Love a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey
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When we spoke earlier today over the telephone,
I purposely diverted our conversating
From what I really had in mind,
To topics which you truly enjoy, work and business.
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Dad!
Try as hard as I can,
I won’t be able to finish the inventory.
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It was very late, no more than a hour before sunrise.
We sat at the kitchen table; we had been up all night.
Four decades had passed, more than forty years
Had separated the grown-up woman from the story
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ETTA,1958


He had twisted his ankle.
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I am in New York City, but New York City,
It does not belong to me. You understand?
I am in New York City, but New York City is not in me.
What do I mean? Listen, I am from Chicago, Illinois.
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I am sick with watery eyes and my body aches,
I fear I have the flu.
A congestion of the lungs has me coughing constantly.
...