Transparent Words - Poetry


Gary Blankenship

Song of Myself #9- Farmer

Song of Myself #10 - Lunatic


Song of Myself #9 - Farmer


8.       9.  The farmer stops by the bars of a Sunday and looks at the oats and rye,


I watch the river divide

one side the faster main course,

the other a slow byway

known for its trout and swim hole


I watch the quick stream flow

over the barrier dam through rapids,

the lazy ripple across gravel shelves

that may hide gold or a fool’s riches


A fancy parlor chair

rabbit hutch

bloated goat

styrofoam cooler

floats by from a flood

many days upstream

far enough away for worry

too far away to break the Sabbath


I watch the river

until the evening wind

rises and head to home

where dinner, wife, chores

and a nip of the neighbor’s corn waits


The town’s bars not open Sundays



Song of Myself #10 - Lunatic


10.   The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirmed case,


Lost in the pile of brick,

musty floor in a damp wing,

my cell (though they called it my room),

in the non-dreams

that disturbed his no-sleep -

I saw a future


where bread was sold by the slice,

water drunk from clear skins,

wallets clipped to belts were used to communicate great distances,

clothes were so minimal to seem optional,

travel was by flying boats though the passengers never seemed to arrive with their baggage,

human and machine melded into one,

involuntary bondage was outlawed,

voluntary bondage was encouraged,

paintings moved in boxes hung on the wall,

honey bees went the way of passenger pigeons


and at the end of time

when the sun was but a cinder

men still considered other men

the most dangerous prey


When I did not wake no longer settled

on a cot in his mother’s bedroom*

no one believed my stories

nor cared


It was time for lunch

peanut butter sandwiches

and orange juice were on the menu


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