![A three stanza poem. The first two couplets look jagged and broken. The third stanza is completely split and scattered across the page, such that reading order is unclear.
Poem text: There are some things so horrible
They cannot be tasted, touched, or smelled.
We do not hear the cry of horror
Nor see the blood wiped across the window.
[as fragments] Try to write them down and the page is blank white black silence darkness rotten hope a concept without flesh](https://i0.wp.com/phillipperiman.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/bleak.png?resize=495%2C577&ssl=1 "Poem text")
Tag: 2020
It is spring in Paris;
the willow weeps light green
into the Seine
running fast brown
after the rain.
Wednesday we sat on a bench
in the Luxembourg garden
with pigeons and growing things;
face to the sun we waited.
Quand j’étais jeune
the leaves sprang bright and
green from every branch
sparkling in the spring sun
Et maintenant
the leaves fall red, yellow
and museum blue
from each knotty limb
Quand j’étais jeune
dashing like a gazelle
across the trafficked boulevard
catching the bus as it paused
Et maintenant
waving a cane of oak
cursing the huffing diesel
standing behind and alone
Quand j’étais jeune
the femme avec les yeux
smiled like an amused cat
purred and waited
Et maintenant
like an irritated crow
the femme squawks
and flies away
Quand j’étais jeune
my head filled with fantasy
Et maintenant
there is only the menace of silence
Categories
At the Lake
summers at the lake we sat and watched
the birds dip over the water and waited
occasionally I allowed myself a thought
what would it be like to walk on water
would I need a special type of footwear
should I take my clothes off without sunblock
nothing ever came of those musings except
the times you put your arm on my shoulder
those were the days when I believed myself
to be loved and all the world hung together
now it is winter and I am alone without you
where you are and on whose shoulder your arm
remains as much a mystery as then when
I wondered how you could love a pup like me
today the lake is bitter cold solid white
I stare straight ahead and imagine a bird
flying across the water in search of food left
next to the ice fisherman’s hut in the center
of the frozen lake where the ice is a foot thick
I realize now how easy it is to walk on water