from DEEP POCKET POEMS

 

SAY

Water in your
eyes tell
clean
tell, sad
long way
away.
Say, come
home
or bring
me.
Say, say
yes.

DEEP POCKET POEMS

"DEEP POCKET"
Jane Lecroy

4" x 4" book of 47 poems it fits in your pocket and makes your pocket deep.

Self Published © 1999

$8

SATURN
This life
is Saturn's night sky
littered with moons;
perhaps of the body
certainly captured by the body
but not out of decision.

All of the things that orbit us,
that fill our attentions,
are determined not by our consciousness,
(although we wish it that way
extending the meaning of free will
to free us from ourselves,
which it never can)
the particular gravity
we each possess comes from
factors determined by the random
chaotic nature of our universe.

We are not responsible
for the parameters we exist out of,
that define us
and separate us from each other.
Varied biologies
Singular interpretations
Particular experiences
lead us to the differences
that make us individuals.

 

We are ringed as the great jovian worlds are
as the insides of trees
as the cross section of any part of the Earth's crust
giving clues to past climates and events
storms, collisions, temperature changes, fires
age, size, formation

There is no scalpel for a life though
no core sample, telescope or diagram.
We are living.
Necessarily unconscious
but possessing consciousness
(the secret definition of time).
This life is the tool we are measuring with
making the tests and results and diagrams.
The very thing we are trying to measure
is the only tool we have to measure by.
Because of this, there are so many patterns.

from DEEP POCKET POEMS

 

GRAVITY IS BETTER THAN THIS POEM

Everything seems so close
but I can't get the distance out of my eyes
There are burning giraffe's in the background of some paintings
and other disturbing possibilities.
I look around me and it could happen
the insane beauty can be conveyed
without words.
It has happened when I have been walking down the street
and a clarity prevails illuminating how easy it is to be alive.
Out of every inlet in the city a sensation saturates me
a person playing cello
a girl on a stoop whispering a secret to another
a bicycle chiming its unchaining
a rug snapping shaked out five floors up
a hydrant emptying white noise river
a blind man's cane tapping eye along the sidewalk
a train mumbles underground
alarms repeating far away
slowly the garbage overflows every hollow throughout the afrternoon
every sound discernible.
I cry at the wonder then
gravity and the wind, they are invisible
but completely perceptible.