Whitman in Vegas by Jim Cohn

Whitman In Vegas

 

In my dream, I see Whitman in Vegas,

Scarlet caped, pulling up in a long

Black limousine, telling the crowd “I always win,

Walking deeper into that field you have made of yourself,

Unmoved by the wind––

Its famines and pestilence, upheavals crowded into months––

Knowing the peak has been revealed,

The summit of the peak right under you,

That’s surely no other peak, that’s no peak at all.”

  

Boulder, Colorado

8 August 2008

 

––Jim Cohn, from his forthcoming collection, Treasures of Heaven

photo by Scott Cohn 

"Place de l'Horloge, Avignon" by William Seaton

photo by Patricia Seaton

Place de l'Horloge, Avignon

Beneath the fourteenth century Gothic clock

where animated figures strike the hour

the double-decked old carousel turns round.

Its horses' riders grin and laugh and wave.

Some ride above the others, some below,

some sit on steeds and some on frogs and some

on swans or pigs or ornamented thrones.

And all around are lovely painted scenes

of heroes, quiet ponds and mountain heights

that -- were they not so fine -- could all be real.

The riders speed along and go nowhere.

(Their motion by itself is motive too.)

Each face betrays a soul absorbed in what

is happening just then. This must be wise.

But when the music stops -- it always is

too soon -- the children know the jig is up.

They then descend a few more minutes old.

They've passed the time and I’ve done nothing more.

William Seaton, from his forthcoming collection, Planetary Motions, Giant Steps Press