POEM ON

            

        Check this gilt head sprinkler for lime shoots in August
        dry run valleys; wall safe papered pleasant mush
        room . blinds called Auden even. 

        Watch that deer pause < myth alert > signs leave 
        shaman fingers darting . off rain forest keys.

                                                                                Old
        acquaintance dig his graveness . do watch out! word
        takes with lines; bury him again . toss laurels sing
        fresh nation praise. 

        Oh, look! flambeau! the museum on the Morne . Quattro
        lit quadrilles beaming History : bask net snagged anchors;
        Prospere capped sea. 

        Island skippers course change tide ride canoe trunk
        sky scrolling trees . cloud light on . on  

                                                                      – W.W.

 

        

       

        

  

          DREAM CHOICE OF GOLD
         

               On an inviting bed,
          my poems to be revised and

       your letter to be answered lie beside

 

               yesterday's crossword still

            unpuzzled: I am lazy. But,

       awake or asleep, I do not ignore

 

               the hint of my dreams, clouds

           grouping and proposing themselves

       new texts by which I might revise old themes

 

              and so bring to clear bloom

          again, with each breath, choice and act,

       the rose of the Sun, the gold rose of Love.

 

             And so now, dismissing

           the bed, I begin to answer

       your letter by honing my verse before

 

            writing you, the poems

          now become our angels on watch.
       Puzzles can wait; Love, though patient, will not.

 

         (from "Within The Wind" ©  by Brian Chan)