Poems from The Orpheus Sedan

BE HE EZRA POUND, KENNEDY OR KING

The martyr wears a crown
bestowed by circumstance.

The old ceremonial Lincoln
is the car in which his widow rides
remembering:

Reality, he defined as: "The force
of an old proverb, driven home."

And now, amid the gleam
of black upholstery and windshield rain,
his words return,

nailing down--driving home
his body banked with flowers.

_

BEHIND THE DREAM VAN

At dawn the dung
is jewelled with flies.

She runs across the fairgrounds
to the bus beside the river
where the gypsies sleep,

pushes back the rusty screen
and steps inside.

"Mama?"

The carousel ponies
with empty saddles
show their teeth.

The Bearded Lady,
smiling faintly,
sleeps.

_
order: The Orpheus Sedan