poetryrepairs #196 14.01:010
JAN OSKAR HANSEN : October in Paris
WENDY L HAMMOND : Grandpa Jake
ALBA HACKER : One More P.K. on the Run from God
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JAN OSKAR HANSEN
October in Paris
Paris metro was a scary place full of robot people with glued lips. Many ghosts they walked right through me and upstairs. I did see Senegal workers knocking down a wall, they had white teeth and smiled.  I got lost it was night when I stumbled up and out of this manmade conflagration, far from the center of Paris. In streets were women swam about, they smiled and I felt like a halibut lost in shark infested sea.  Ten years ago one of them might have lured me into a cove lit by a 40 amp lamp, I would have spent days worrying whether I had contracted venereal disease; there is something to be said for inability; If I were a bishop my parishioners would be safe. Found a bistro; good food and wine much cheaper than uptown. Louvre? I have seen the postcard, who wants to see Versailles, this gilded bordello with no loo.
poetryrepairs #196 14.01:010
All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
VIRGINIA WOOLF
The Art of Reading


WENDY L HAMMOND
Grandpa Jake
grandpa jake i make music with words i heard you played the accordion traveled the country with a band had many women, a few families you abandoned i wonder if you still write songs in heaven -or is it really quiet, like in catholic church, or waiting rooms maybe i'm too soon in asking but that much peace could drive me crazy imagine, if you knew me like a familiar melody we could spend our time listening tapping our feet to a sweet genetic rhythm, only you and i could make grandpa jake, i understand- the music was the reason you had to keep moving -now, how do i find a soothing lyric for that
poetryrepairs #196 14.01:010
I have many things to write unto you but
I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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ALBA HACKER
One More P.K. on the Run from God
They secured a lock to shut all overflow: *No use in getting wet if one can avoid it.* They erected dams on fault lines, every year new designs, sealed in chapter and verse. With each ripple witnessed, every fall and rise, any bend or cove's depth measured, recorded in black books. But her stream refused containment; it loosened bits of sand and brick until it trickled, drifting out of bounds. And they scrambled to hide seeping cracks. I remember when the front caved in a roar of white rapids: frenzy drowned deafening church bells.
Poetry endangers the established order
of the soul - Plato

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition.
-- Oxford English Dictionary

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poetryrepairs #196 14.01:010
JAN OSKAR HANSEN : October in Paris
WENDY L HAMMOND : Grandpa Jake
ALBA HACKER : One More P.K. on the Run from God
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