The Clackamas print., June 03, 1992, Page 8, Image 8

Robert A. Hibberd
like a paper clip
Into the Mirror of Doubt
And how a dollar dies
compares with the cries
\
'
of a child
lost in the flood
Somewhere, I’ll happen
to meet someone
again along the way
I
\
of a rain,
K
-
This Iknow
will itself
true because
While a fat-man
if clung to a magnet
who substitutes food
for a duration,
for sex
I to am exhibiting
the sort of need
that I’ve known,
so does the blood
stands near
somewhere before.
from my heart
his white picket fence
become a magnet
clog with each drag
staring at
In that moment of regret;
fora
consensual agreement
of a cigarette
tiie charred chicken
That instant of despair,
of a clinging
lit with the thought
he has disposed
and a grasping
a false will be admitted;
of a timely sanction
into a silver trash-can,
for you
a sin uncovered,
taken against myself,
A stomach does
and from you;
revealed; a faked smile
for you.
somewhere hurt
for you
in the heat of hot
and for me.
will signify
a new era of thought, and.
So that a cloud
deserted jungle sun.
With this instance
of smoke fills
And sweat rolls
And this beer tastes
comes a larger moment
the bar
down his fat cheek
so that this moment
of residues tin
as a jar
as watching
becomes a greater
and essence watered down,
holds fallen coins
the new black neighbors
distance between
and this cigarette
of homage
across the street
stains and entrenches
the mirror of doubt
to the sorrowful server
moving in and upward.
and an inability
my shirt,
of brains going numb
so is the hurt
to differentiate
between the two,
hair and skin
during the sad
that the meek
practice of someone
must feel
so I’ll say I knew,
searching
while being teased
swallow another brew
my nose
making you
for someone
with a meal
appear foggy
somewhere.
of unkept promises
in the mist
that lead
of ¡tail.
Because I know
that exploitation
and out through
to a loss
is the name
\
\
of the power game
Still, though,
my conscience struggles
through fiendish plots
to turn dreams
against me
and remains
just a
friend of a friend,
and somewhere
near the end
the gap
will be filled
to start again
and that becomes
my birth
entirely over again.
And so
I gaze
at your structured image
gazing back at me,
in the mirror behind
the drinks
of whiskey and scotch
and I watch
with both eyes
as you
randomly tailor
your disguise
because
of trust
in all we seek.
we will meet
again
somewhere
when you want Black and Blue
clouds to shower down fame
to the ground -— _
so clouds once again
and again
become unpicked
have to begin.
we wi
white coated cotton.
Jean Marshall
Death in the Afternoon
/
Boys with puny tools
excited to violate virgin empires
produce sing-song rhythms
with their saws
)
humming old tunes to new meters
Towering trees dwarf mere man
voracious appetites devour
,
endless greens and burp
Adam Wagner
Jumoina From The Roof Of A HouseTo TheRoaf Of ASbad
**
(forKen)
Climbing the ladder of a tree
into the air.
Up on top of things
wind blows harder
words fall shorter
branches thin until
our weight is a gamble
and the leaves at the top tell us
we are on our own.
ships, wagons, houses,
courduroy roads
/
/
Morning mingles with afternoon
steel rips through tender trunks
. rich brocade bleeds white
yellow chips float o insect-laden air
an ax rings the death knell
/
Heads thrown back
Having practiced and conquered
launching off swings and branches
jumping from fences
Always
back to the ground.
I pictured smooth
the air above
the yard
from the point
of that roof where
we finally stood, together.
men ponder death's direction
.
wedges lay the body out
I
/
winds whisper a eulogy
boys hum the hymn-tune
Heavy
dark
the too-large body lies
x/
\
with limp boughs outstreched \ >
Greg Benner
Sally
The coffin
moist
pine-scented air
Sold out to the big dream
A picture on a T.V. screen,
Sally paints a picture
of her pretty face.
She always gets approval
for conforming to the rules.
A little mascara, a little rouge,
Sally creates a happy face.
All the boys do drool,
She's the school jewel
Sally's an all American gal,
Victim of a personal foul.
Sally dwells in a plastic palace
A queen who's lost her balance
Sally is a dream created
After all things have faded.
V
Down there my friend is a Catholic.
Down there I am Episcopalian.
Up here we hope God wHTnot
consider such distinctions,
but carry us equally
from the roof of one
to the roof of another.
If we land safely
I will tell my friend about
the body of Christ -
it tastes like paper, but
the blood better than liquer.
When his sister calls him for dinner
the ground looks away - an uneasy catcher
I burst down that shingled runway,
pick up my weight in my arms and
plant that last ditch foot, leaving everything
I never wanted
behind on that roof with the last shadow of my foot,
lifting, spilling through distance.
That is my confession
That may be my absolution,
all in one jump.
Cleansed by dangerous air,
forgiven for my sins -
For stealing your sister.
I smuggled the wafers into my pockets
the body of Christ in my clothes
I met her down at the empty
playground.
I gave her communion
At the merry-go-round alter,
she tasted her savior.
In the trees by the field
with our lips and our fingers
we answered each other's hovering prayers.