Dan Barth

 

Elbo Poems and Epigrams

"What is an epigram?
A dwarfish whole.
It's body brevity
And wit it's soul."
-Coleridge

norml houseparent poem troubled boys make too much noise, run wild through halls, don't come when called, argue a lot: let them smoke pot   down home "shine on" is the song on the country music radio station in the kitchen -- the grit, the star, a deck of cards, iced tea the sound of dolly parton's voice vibrates resonantly   suburban blight the myth of progress created this mess   amerika this country 'tis of us poor folks who take the bus   conference memo don't kid yourself the center of america is fresno, california   mardi gras smell of dogshit sound of sirens in the sun   on the beach "shh . . . ," she said, "if you're real quiet you can hear the seagulls, walking."   lunchtime at the duckpond secretaries and nurses fishing in their purses     hokku epigram everything i know i learned from Basho   reps epigram unless it's fun better left undone   a. g. epigram see the little skeleton with his rat race mind tryna figure out how to be kind of kind   about about a boy by p. s. gone beyond and dreams are the reverberating themes   paramita@sirius.com an overdue ride at ridge's edge a long drawn out run on the river   beneath beneath the spavined arches of the capital the stately procession gloomed   wash & wax philosophical the cat shat in my room hmmm . . . .

again again i hear that cat meow what's her problem now?   always that old dog up on the hill always finds something to bark at   frog when is a haiku not a haiku? when the frog plops in the wrong pond   the back country dreams, fantasy, the back country -- gray laby-reves of literature, woods in Tennessee   summertime, kentucky hardshell bugs, attracted by light buzz against a screen at night   a short history of kentucky dan boone shot coon   louisville (2001) what would daisy fay say if she were here today?   80 w. p. m. another literary luminary working as a secretary   another on ramp in california el centro where the cops are assholes   the stars reel the stars reel down the sky i wake and watch them, wondering -- how many times before how many times still to come will the stars reel down the sky?   late news time is flowing like a river to the sea the radio informs me   tiring visibly in the late innings cold beer still here   phi kappa karma learned men can be a pain   good advice ken kesey's advice to writers: walk slow and drink lots of water   the states of american literature norman mailer, new york, big bucks ken kesey, oregon, ducks   one way of looking at 13 blackbirds through the sights of a 12-gauge shotgun

 

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