Monday, March 03, 2014

As Poe Appears...

Orion is Risen
—Photo Manipulation by Robert Lee Haycock, Antioch

—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA

Just as I left
with my pocket radio
announcing the Groundhog
saw his shadow
knowing winter
had a ways to go
with my friends urging me
to ski in the mountains
preparing to face
the sun-lighted snow,
with all the asymmetries
you have to take
my diary, cups, amenities,
for navy-shirted guy
going up to the high country,
dismissing all dissing
old tapes in the back
of the Mack truck
getting up to Stowe,
at the nature inns
of woodsy Vermont
with my skis in hand
trying my luck
make my way on ice
over a great hill
a woman had just fallen
and she had great skill,
I could not move
in the fearful shadow
but refuse a panic attack
saying I need a day of fun,
close my tearing eye
remembered once singing
in a monastery psalm 91,
when twin teens came by
and rescued me from dread
grateful for nature
everything, living and dead.

Getting the Hockney Out
—Robert Lee Haycock

—B.Z. Niditch
Fear and trembling
in a swollen head
with my red sweater
tied tight around me
feeling underfed,
a wolf sounding
on the ski slopes
with great ambition
in his groping jaws
out here in the woods
there are no civil laws
only noises to dread,
softly I turn around
in the lost shadows
by the snow lift
it's just a wolf hound
it's a gift,
yet still race back
to my truck windows
a poet is miffed.

Waiting for a Train
—Robert Lee Haycock

—B.Z. Niditch

A lingering shadow
by a few apple trees
feeling a bruise and nick
from woodsy twigs
on the meadow
no hand grasps
when there is only me,
yet what made me pause
in a panic attack
cause my body
to cross over the land
and green lawn
by a hovering breeze,
here at the white steeple
still keeping my secret
from all people,
with a hawthorn
at my back
feeling as a private eye
in my flight
by a cathedral tent,
tonight spying
a black bird
under the half- moon
high lighted on the sky
here by the river dunes
on these Lenten grounds
climbing over
the snow bluffs
even the shadows quiver
but makes no sounds
even on my cuffs,
repenting for my time
of inconsequential mirth
my life will be set right
and I will be content
again with laughter
on this nature's earth.

Rain Dance
—Robert Lee Haycock

—B.Z. Niditch

March rains
when the Bay
seems so calm
from the fog bank
on a deserted part
of the beach's edge
as someone
shrieks out for help
in a warning cry
and all I hear
with my head gear off
and being nearsighted
is a neighing echo
from a shrill voice
not knowing
in the vaporous dawn
if he or she
is on the fisherman's deck
or fallen in a reef
or beneath the rocks
yet trembling
in my grey overcoat
glancing at the silence
and hum around me
at last connect
with a guy on ice
along the icy shore
holding on a chain
two standard poodles
in a sliding shadow
on a dear life line
having fought
the gargantuan waves
trying to carry them away
to the ocean side,
yet in a ray of thin light
a spirit within me
manages a triple rescue. 

 The Country Between Us
—Robert Lee Haycock

—B.Z. Niditch

The ledge was so clean
the snow so fine
like Christmas morning
could not be more keen
with the sunshine,
yet hiding in the bushes
in the brownish muck
where the dunes
are beyond woods and sea
a guy from the hills
yells over to me
"There is a monster
like Loch Ness
in the Scottish country"
what did I know
a kid of six
with only a rabbit foot
for luck
and a bow and arrow
made from sticks
all eager for my fate
getting in my licks
on this late winter date,
with the East wind blowing
out over the waves,
even being brave,
how do I know
how a sea beast
will behave,
when I spotted my teacher
my face turned pink
what can a I say
but started to think
when she paused
"Are you ice fishing
it's very dangerous,
being alone out here
even for Northeast fishermen
like my husband, you know"
she took a pocket tissue
because of bone-chilling cold
yet am unwilling
for any serious cry to show,
yet she walked and pointed me
away from a night of fear
became my seeing eye
my mind was still weary
yet at six years old
I knew she cared.

I Dreamt I Dreamed
—Robert Lee Haycock

—B.Z. Niditch

Putting on my headgear
near the foggy window
the air was somehow tense
as shadows in the snow,

Falling asleep by the stairs
yet hearing a nightmare foe
suddenly as in a poem
Edgar Allen Poe appears,

He offers me a night
in the Valley of Weir
there is wistaria around
and so much fear,

People stumble and curse
in the dark
there is so much traffic
with nowhere to park,

It starts to rain
while I am driving
shadows spread a spell
but where, I cannot tell,

Suddenly in a glade of time
words come to my mind
for in my journal on the bed
poetry starts to rhyme.

Start to Finish
—Robert Lee Haycock

—B.Z. Niditch

My heart aches
with all this traffic
it must be the GPS
or the map's mistakes,

Across the Bay
it's pretty late
with little back pay
my one suit out of date,

What shadows
on these roads
why in the snow
is there a river of toads,

Then I find a hat
from a ghostly tree
and a black cat
in this far country,

In this ice field
shivering and alone
by the graveyard
with the price of dry bones,

Then a host of mystery
of the creative gift
by a dreadful sea
up to take a ski lift,

More shades lurk behind
the firs and pine
I choose my mind
to serve poetry's kind.


Today's LittleNip:

Poetry is a friend who lives in and on after life.

—B.Z. Niditch


—Medusa, with thanks to B.Z. Niditch and Robert Lee Haycock for today's duet.

Ignatz and Ofissa
—Robert Lee Haycock