Assorted Poems

The poems here are those that I like well enough (at the moment) to publicly admit are mine, even if I'm not exactly satisfied. I have hope for these in some way, hope that yet another revision will make things fall into place, hope that the unachieved idea will somehow appear out of the wreckage, perhaps hope that something will be enough to inspire a better work by someone else.

(These two poems were originally published in "Block's Magazine", Spring 1997.)

Muskingum Hilltop

This April air soothes, liquid
     at four in the morning,
when windows are dark,
     sidewalks empty,
and the half-grown leaves
     mutter gentle nonsense--

When the insomniac soul
     ceases treading,
But the first false dawn
     has yet to scatch
its faint pink expectations across,
     the perfectly dark horizon.

(For those interested in the process of writing poetry, you can check my essay using drafts of "Muskingum Hilltop" to discuss "The Poetry Process".)

Another Quest (And for those young writers who think writing ends, I just made major changes in the line breaks and form.....about 8 years after the poem was published.)

And dawn comes
with no revelation,
no star, no grail,
no waking freed from a dream;
no sleep-formed mist waits
for the sun to burn
illusion into epiphany.

The day wakes
with no recognition,
no note of those
who track the night
seeking one scent
of magic, one spoor
of power, one willing
god, ready to barter souls.

University Cemetery, Eugene, OR

Tumbled stones loose their names
to the wind, names
borrowed from the dead,
given to the rock,
and gone.

Another Dawn

Purple, pink, and ignorant, dawn
comes with no revelation. Why
should I expect it now, just because
I feel the need?

But what comes through
     this thin incision of color
will be a dark child,
    the cold-eyed get of innocence
and the worm, and the get
     of the worm is always
hungry, winter-hungry,
     as when spring comes late,
or not at all.

Night Breathes

Night breathes beyond
the door, not so
tender, but tempting.

We do not
satisfy one another, but
we return.

So one of us hungers,
and one of us hunts.

Acceptance (written long, long ago)

Maybe I could bleed a little, but
that never worked before. Your thirst
is well documented; who
ever sated it?

Burnt offerings are out of style,
and I've forgotten
where the altar stands.
Besides,

lamb is expensive
down at the market, and
I don't believe
You're

that god I've read about.
He seemed to like sacrifices.
I don't.

Maybe if you like me
I could bleed
just a little.

A Visit With the Romantics (also from much younger days)

     Sometimes I visit my world's
edge
        and contemplate the fallen
bridge. I sit, feet dangling
      in the widening abyss,
and watch unachored worlds
     drifting in the mist.
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Special Note and Favor Request: According to the traffic stats I have access to, a fair number of people visit this site. However, the design of that traffic report is bad to the point of being useless. I will be switching to a different traffic report eventually, but in the meantime, I would appreciate it if visitors would take just a moment to let me know what page or pages they visited and what they think. The how and why you came to the site would be potentially interesting as well. Although the reports claim I'm getting traffic, I only hear from two or three people a year. If anyone has e-mailed and not gotten a response, there's a glitch I don't know about.

Thanks.
Forrest
E-mail me at ginfor@earthlink.net

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Would you like to know when the site gets updated? Drop me an e-mail, and I'll add you to the list. Much of my writing has been for the antiques site lately, but I have a long list of essays in assorted stages of revision for this site. The people who e-mail often apologize because they assume I'm swamped with e-mails. I only wish it were true. I'm a teacher from the marrow out, so give me questions. I'm a writer, so I also need an audience. Sometimes that means applause, sometimes rotten tomatoes.

From time to time, a student decides to use some of my ideas, or perhaps they even quote me in a paper. Great, I'll take what fame and traces of immortality I can get. However, I should also warn such students that my ideas are not always the things that your teachers want to hear. I'm a stubborn idealist, and that puts me at odds with quite a bit of education theory and literary criticism. Sure, I think I'm right about some things, and I'm sometimes convinced of my own brilliance, but don't jump into the fire blindfolded.

FDP

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