zafusy

Vertebrae

 

And later

a saxophone emits

the sounds of sugarcane or

Bourbon St. on a warm July night

or a plucking bass is the music of the

living revelry in style or every note a collection

of ancient bones reassembled graciously in a way

that causes enough kinetic energy to make them move.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maurice Oliver

"Renamed & Renumbered" Sonnet

Let's begin by drawing a blue doorway. A
beach being searched by a metal detector.
Diamonds in rough gravel. A puddle of ink.
Murky water in a basin. Utility workers. A
group of longshoremen. The dusty shelves
of  the earth rolled up then paper clipped. A
bareheaded man standing at the end of the
platform. Artifacts that can unfold themselves.
Words that know how to hang out to dry. A
bluff above the Hudson. A newly renovated
delicatessen. A traffic island willing to endure
any kind of weather. Bats in the belfry. Picture
postcards from Tuscany. Hair tonic. Buttered
toast. A pair of purple pant suspenders & a
crisp white shirt. Ashes from a cold fire. Light
from a warm star. No word from the answering
machine. One doorknob bravely facing the future.

Eye, Hoping To Be An Ear

or real thirsty
on a beach in summer
your mouth parts & my name
scatters the birds
until I want to run
like warm water
or my honeybee be
with butter on both
sides of the bread
& that carrot
you picnic from a basket
with our propellers on
or your dress uncorked
& unmakeup a map
to love is my limb
I can crawl out on
or rise up like the sun
to make us a day or
maybe a dog all-night
listless lays down
in one big thud

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maurice Oliver

"Tombstone Grooves" Sonnet

An Oscar-winning eye lid. A puffin
breasted double beat. Buttons in the
fountain. Nutting but steam. Beach
diapers. Soul bronchitis. A scenic
out house. One glass tuba. Diamond
brims. A high-tech tiara. Home-made
fingers. Sheep mines. Nose fudge. An
assortment of asphalt. Two accordions
necking. One spoon sleeping. A moon
courtship. Kool-aid foot powder. Cloud
glucose. A phantom slap. A chin in my
punch. Hard-knock cafe. Truckloads of
cardboard landfill. A touch of belly.
Bear mattress. Goat tease. A giggling
shaman. A Mardi Grass goose. Splinter
talk. Miss Clairol or dying to meet
you. Steel-plated combat loops. More
tombstone grooves. A head tire tread.
Hand open palms. Demo dishes. No shirt.
Wondering if you ever stop to wonder if.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maurice Oliver