There is anarchy in the summerfields
The soybeans
are Socialist Democrat
with each
growing to a uniform height
never wanting
greater height than neighbor plants
The corn
a Monarchy,
tall, proud but thin, fragile;
standing on dirt
Wheat is Communist
using the manifesto wind
as an excuse
to wave in unison,
but only managing an occasional ripple
Green Beans
are Democracy
thinking they can grow
as long as they want, but
just getting tangled
in each other's vines
J Kevin Wolfe
One Strong Wing (for Christian)
If I had one strong wing
I could fly away
said the boy with the stolen face
Burned so bad
that death was a hope
his eyes were the only thing left beautiful
the only thing left human
All looked upon this tiny charred shell
and could not see a boy
Even his parents disavowed his once-life
now a vagueness of scars
If I had one strong wing I could fly away
I could feel the soft breeze
and not this confusion of sense
on what was once my face
Someone heard
the quiet wail
He still had no wing
but he flew 5000 miles
He flew to where surgeons
were sculptors of flesh
and potters of noses
Operation
operation
operation
etc.
They failed
to make his face a child's
But the cleverest magician
took two toes
and made two fingers appear
on the once of a hand
If I had one strong wing
I could lift a discarded life
and make it seem mine again
But I have two near-fingers
so I can feel anything again
anything
except my face
J. Kevin Wolfe
The Bubble
All of life
seemed to be in the tiny bubble
he had just blown.
His little breath gave it life
as it grew and lifted
off the wand.
A twisted rainbow danced
in the thin soap sphere
as it rose.
It glided
out a window.
It sheened in the sun.
And floated into the bluest of skies
until it vanished.
I know now for sure
it died
in a sudden burst
not far from the window.
but as a child
you could
never convince me of that.
J. Kevin Wolfe
Mrs. Einstein
"Why is it" said Mrs. Einstein
"that a man can hear the silent
hum of the universe and
know what's making it knock...yet
he can't hear a word I'm saying"
"Huh?" said Albert
contemplating an expanse of space
and forgetting to wind his watch.
tulips must be hindus
tulips must be hindus
(sprout blossom drop-petals die)
they reincarnate in spring
(sp out b os om. d o - a s die)
they are clumsy with their petals
( p out b oss ro pet ie)
so careless with precious colors
( s lo p pe as I )
The Curious People
Life is a brilliant red in Beijing.
It is communism
It is blood
It is everywhere and too thick to notice
My mundane was unique
so they stole half written postcards
to see the strange letters
and they leaped into
photos to see what boring scenes
I found interesting.
60 miles sprawled with tenements
30 million existences of sameness
and me
who made the comrades curious
I stopped
and l looked
at a nonexistent spot on the sidewalk
A throng solidified instantly
Switching glances between me
and the spotless I stared at
screamed whispers moved
in tiny waves of absurd
and serious
The disbelievers
gathered
like an anti-Fatima
as I bent to pick up
a closely examined nothing
Without letting on a smile
or looking in a single face
I walked away through a parting
sea of people
carefully holding air
between my fingers
as if it were an emperor's ring
I became "the man who glances"
They waved to me
they followed me
I was an expected circus
that had come to entertain
the billion.
J. Kevin Wolfe
I thoroughly appreciate those involved with the Web poetry movement which is putting the most real of things back into our virtual world and giving us an electronic brick wall to spraypaint the graffiti of our souls.
We're pushing 6 billion poets on this planet. I am just one that stops enacting the poems of life long enough to take notes.
all poems copyright J. Kevin Wolfe. Author gives web publishing permission for free public
viewing. All rights reserved. Author also gives permission to publish his email address for
reader comments. One time paper print rights available by agreement. Poems have been submitted
elsewhere on the web.
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