Tuesday, 31 October 2017 12:22

October 2017 Poems

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Total Solar Eclipse


Even though the differences in size and

The distances involved are understood

And the force of gravity propelling

The moon and earth about each other and


Around the sun is accurately known

And even though we know nowhere else in

The solar system do the orbs align

So much like hand and glove for the moon to


So exactly block the sun in passing

With just a rim of light escaping — the

Miracle is that waves of photons flow

In space into the biology of


The eye and somehow sight and consciousness

Come together and comprehend the facts.


For me seeing the

sunlight passing through

cottonwood leaves and

making me happy

is a miracle.




Who could blame Mr. Bean for snoozing in

His folding chair while he was alone in

An empty museum in uniform

As a security guard puffing with


His lips fluttering and then his back slipped

Down the metal chair and he almost slid

Out of the chair while his mouth was open

And then he bent forward with his chest just


About touching his knees and he wavered

On the edge of the chair on the verge of

Collapse but he found a precarious

Point of balance and then he snorted and


Startled and rose back into the chair with

His arms dangling and he was still asleep.


Mr. Bean was

a human noodle

who gave himself to

child-like foolishness

to make people laugh.




Mom found it in an envelope box while

Dusting bookshelves and I saw spots of age

On the cover as she hesitated

Because I can be cranky but this was


Dad’s doctoral dissertation that he

Came to American to write as he

Wanted an education and in these

Pages remain his youthful pursuit of


A rational basis for faith and we

Knew the millennia of scholarship

The culmination of effort these typed

Words are as he tried so hard to be a


Messenger of wisdom and a leader

For people who were trying to be good.


Mom is a faithful

guardian of each issue

of fifty years of

publishing a journal that

Dad and I did together.



Photons are invisible scientists

Say and the brain exists in darkness yet

Somehow energy is flowing in the

Eyes the nerve cells the synapses and the


Visual cortex and somehow sunlight

And starlight reveal the vastness of the

Universe and the speed of light and space

Time has been calculated but there is


No explanation for how I have a mind

That sees and comprehends the miracle

Of my mother’s motherly concern for

Her gladioli and geraniums


And chrysanthemums that expresses a

Nurturance underlying everything.


Consciousness expands

until it bumps against its

limitations and

devolves to geraniums

and chrysanthemums.



Lascaux Caves


Cave art in France from seventeen thousand

Years ago is pregnant with hints as the

Bison horses and lions together

Are believed to be on the plains and the


Bulls horses deer and bears are supposed to

Be in forest and there is an ibex

A rhinoceros a feline apart

And artists used scaffolding to reach the


Ceilings and they prized yellow red and black

And they swabbed and blotted and sprayed with a

Tube and even as we stand where they stood

Their language is dissipated but were


They moved to create by desire and

Pride by their dreaming or perhaps pleasure?


Fire in the cave

illuminated rock

and generations

collaborated in

recreating life.



Carbon dating the tools pointed to the

Paleolithic era but the age

Of the art can not be determined and

Animals predominate but trees and


Grass aren’t depicted and we’ve given names

To the Nave the Apse the Hall of Bulls and

The Chamber of Felines but we don’t know

The words they spoke but the bulls and bison


Are stamping the horses’ hooves are pounding

An archer is thrusting a knee forward

Confronting a line of deer charging and

The life presented bespeaks a throbbing


Heart and surging blood but their manner of

Greeting and courtesy have disappeared.


Light and breath coming

with tourists introduced

fungus and black mold

so scientists are striving

to contain the corruption.

Read 4051 times Last modified on Tuesday, 23 October 2018 17:21
Barry MacDonald

Editor & Publisher of the St. Croix Review.

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