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jane
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PORTRAIT OF THE AMERICAN DREAM
By jane (After William Carlos Williams)
There’s my things
lying on my desk:
that green lamp
next to the notepad--
I’m sick of order!
Come and get me
if you want me
and you’ll see
the rest of my things--
though it would be nice
letting go of it all!
I must work
and I’ve had no sleep.
What am I going to do
about it?
--and no freedom
(the reckless youth)
But I’ve my nice clothes
and a good wife
and here’s this! look!
it’s hard!
There’s brains and blood
in there--
my name’s Silverman!
Method
can go to the devil--
and files along with them--
What do I care!
My two boys?
--they’re young!
Let the French nanny
care for them--
they’ll graduate
or
let them drop out of high school--
that kills order.
This house is empty
isn’t it?
Then it’s mine
because I bought it.
Oh, I won’t cry
while there’s the clients
come here to see me.
Try to help me
if you want order
or leave me alone--
that helps order.
The boss at my law firm
is a damned child
and he
can go to hell!
I could have closed the door
when I came in;
I said I would go out.
I’m tired.
LIFE IS THE THING WITH FLOWERS
By jane (After Emily Dickinson)
Life is the thing with flowers
That blooms within the heart,
And grows in earth up to the sky,
And never stops to part,
And sweetest in the breeze is smell’d;
And white must be the clouds
That space could only be upheld
That covered like a shroud.
I’ve smelled it on the highest cliff,
And in the darkest hour;
Yet all I have to do is know
That life is but a flower.
SEARCHING BY FIELDS ON A BREEZY MORNING
By jane (After Robert Frost)
Whose eyes these are I think I know.
His smile is in the corner though;
He will not see me walking here
To watch his arms sway to and fro.
My helpful friend must think it queer
To stop without a person near
Between my town and farmland greens
The hottest sunlight of the year.
He gives me such a look I see
To help me be what I should be.
The only other sight’s the gold
Wheat swaying in the gust so free.
These fields are lovely, full and wide.
But I have pledges to abide,
And now I know that I have tried,
And now I know that I have tried.
WAITING
By jane (After Wallace Stevens)
All night I sat waiting for you,
Sat waiting as if I were you
In distant countries.
It was summer and lukewarm nights
Blanketed the quaint town
Bent in the valley.
No sound was stirring as I sat,
A song was crooning, "Everything
Ends at beginnings,
Even seasons that ebb and flow,
The nights, the days that seem to stretch
Forever and ever."
The light was struggling, water dripped
From the ceiling in the lonely
Room where I was waiting.
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021208
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