MAP #77

Theme: Midnight To Dawn Instant Anthology

1. Aaron Sanders of Austin


How do you see me

When the clock passes 2:34

And there's nothing anymore

But blankets, bed,

And us?

Am I more beautiful

Across the room...

A blur of nakedness

Searching for ater

And a cigarette or two?

Can you see

The way I'm looking

At you...?

Like a laid out lovely...

Already immortal

In a moment of wanting.


2. Neil Meili of Calgary (and Austin)

The More

(Lullaby of Polarity)

The more the more

you are woman the more I am man

The more the more

you rest soft in my arms

the stronger they become

The more the more

I am man

the more you are woman

The more strength in the shape of the spoon

the more the more

even in sleep

you curl up and melt into sugar and good medicine.


3. Mary Beth Gradziel of Red Rock, Tx.

Eat not

so fast of this banquet.

Take time

to chew the words,

roll our tongues

around each sweet


and taste the flavors

nestled tone

to sound.

As we share

our luscious treasures,

let us stroke

each long-limbed thought

with soft fingers

and open ears.

There is no hurry.

We hold eternity

in outstretched hands



4. Jon Gregory of Fort Worth

Indian Summer

Drink deep the fruitful cup

as the light of early autumn wanes

For this is the glory time of year.

The midday of wisdom

before the long, black night of despair.

Relish this day like the bounty of harvest,

having reaped golden grain from our months of toil.

Hunger quelled, warm in the hearth,

caressed in the arms of an old, familiar lover,

knowing tath one day she will be gone.

Linger long in the amber meadow

where soothing winds lull youthful sense of dread.

Resplendent in October sun, celebrate your triumph,

for this day will never dawn again,

and the deep, red coals will fade to gray forever.

© 1999 Jon Gregory


5. Carl Dhiman of Lonon

Do you feel safer when the cops shoot your neighbor?

Do you feel at all?

This city is strange, lost children in the big playground

look to the skies; sirens howl and

mothers zip babies back inside their jackets.

Everywhere like nowhere else there is motion

The city streets are paved with paper, and we exist;

consider our next move on life's concrete checker board.

A girl sighs, "oh, my... goodness," as

uncertain pedestrians walkdon'twalkwalkdon'twalk...

street peddlers peddle junk perfume

and the stench of fresh garbage hits nostrils.

Everywhere like nowhere else there is noise...

and in the middle of a Barnes & Noble bookstore

we are writing; surviving; resisting.

Do you feel safer when the cops shoot your neighbor?

Do you feel safer when the cops shoot your neighbor?

Do you feel at all?


6. August Kleinzahler, appearing at Barnes & Noble on Guadalupe, Tuesday, April 27. Here is the title poem from his book.

Green Sees Things In Waves

Green first thing each day sees waves-

the chair, armoire, overhead fixtures, you name it,

waves-which, you might say, things really are,

but Green just lies there awhile breathing

long slow breaths, in and out, through his mouth

like he was maybe seasick, until in an hour or so

the waves simmer down and then the trails and colors

off of things, that all quiets down as well and Green

starts to think of washing up, breakfast even

with everything still moving around, colors, trails,

and sounds, from the street and plumbing next door,

vibrating- of course you might say that's what

sound really is, after all vibrations-but Green,

he's not thinking physics at this stage, nuh-uh,

our boy's only trying to get himself out of bed,

get a grip, but sometimes, and this is the kicker,

another party, shall we say, is in the room

with Green, and Green knows this other party

and they do not get along, which understates it

quite a bit, quite a bit, and Green knows

that this other cat is a hallucination, right,

but these two have a routine that goes way back

and Green starts hollering, throwing stuff

until he's all shook up, whole day gone to hell,


Anyhow, the docs are having a look,

see if they can't dream up a cocktail,

but seems our boy ate quite a pile of acid one time,

clinical, wow, enough juice for half a block-

go go go, little Greenie-blew the wiring out

from behind his headlights and now, no matter what,

can't find the knob to turn off the show.

© August Kleinzahler