VERNON WARING : A Death on Elm Street
BILL CARROLL : Trains
PRASENJIT MAITI : 1999
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09:102
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A Death on Elm Street Trains 1999


VERNON WARING
A Death on Elm Street
I.  The Assassin     Smoke and dust     suck oxygen     from his puny lungs     as he rises on an     ancient freight elevator     At the warehouse window,     he assumes a darker mask,     his bony finger     tracing the trigger's curve,     his beady eyes narrowing in     on the slow moving target:     that famous sculpted     head of state     so perfect     in the plaza light     Finally he will plummet -     a bruised puppet     slipping through     a surreal night,     a phantom of smoke and dust     blinking in the glare     of a Dallas lineup II. The First Lady     Her deep whispery voice     unspools a reel of film:     crowds, blinding sun,     a promise of shade     in the distance,     then a sudden odd quizzical look     on her husband's face     She recalls that moment     of slow motion shock:     that serrated piece of his skull     floating lazily     in a blur     toward     her     bright     pink     lap
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09:102
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
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A Death on Elm Street Trains 1999


BILL CARROLL 
Trains
I used to rent an apartment In a house which abutted some train tracks, A commuter line that hurried suburbanites downtown non-stop and back. You could watch them in the windows as they passed Paging through the Wall Street Journal intently as if it were the secret language of dreams. Perhaps they could not see out as we could see in. It was a poor section of the city then. In one yard down the block, roosters still roved Scratching the ground, calling in the day; Across the tracks, a family kept a horse in their garage; Local gang kids would war periodically over fluid turf But the train viaduct formed a fixed boundary And thus it was adorned with gang symbols and dog urine, Oracular signs that the informed nose could sniff out. I imagined being a hobo then And that the train passed to remind me of the wide fields of Kansas The mesas and the nameless small towns That would rescue me from this civilization. Having a young son to raise I was free to imagine without having to act. We went through three sets of landlords in the time we lived there Three presidents and many loaves of cornbread. One night a young boy died on the tracks And rumor said that his head was severed by a passing train But I heard nothing more about it. There were many stories in that neighborhood And few were exactly true but they resonated with blue-collar mythology. The night before I moved I stood in the backyard Watching the trains pass on schedule The sweet clover in bloom, the August cicadas keeping time. I waved but no one waved back from the windows. Whether it was good-bye or hello I was uncertain. Good days give way to good dreams; I gave up that hoboing before I began.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09: 102
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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A Death on Elm Street Trains 1999


PRASENJIT MAITI
1999
This year crawls toward Calcutta my beloved misery like some tiger famished for more and like tongues performing acts I have only read in old books left over from dear beloved College Street (my intellectual confidant) and not felt in the blood of my blood; So do it to me, my love help me erupt like sadness gagged by sadness, help me run the streets naked screaming Holy Murder and save my dear old Calcutta my misery and my most triumphant defeats; And yet you are still, still you are yourself and not mine (like some middle age fetish, mindful of some girdle of chastity) your young swings lush and dangerous in the air and water and fire and winter of Calcutta, and yet you are yourself and not the years I used to know
POETRYREPAIRS 13.09: 102
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VERNON WARING : A Death on Elm Street
BILL CARROLL : Trains
PRASENJIT MAITI : 1999


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