poetryrepairs #205 14.10:119
BARBARA F. LEFKOVITZ : The Ecstacy of Metaphor
ROBERT JOE STOUT : Exhibitionist
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Your nimble fingers secrete the stray merchandise at Main Street's Almighty Dollar Store - a place brimming with inanimate objects made in Japan and China, transported into your bulky winter coat's four outside pockets Secrete that pack of gum, those ballpoint pens, mechanical pencils, tiny spiral boundnotebooks that fit so easily Conceal that paperback best seller you were lookingthrough earlier, the one titled "Where is God?" in bold red type superimposed against a threatening gray sky Grab that bracelet for your wife, that string of pearls too and don't forget a bib for the baby, a knickknack to brighten your mother's dingy living room and remember to take those black leather gloves so perfect for the months ahead Withyour heart racing, move toward the exit door, walk - don't run - avoid eyecontact - that's it - keep going, but slowly And then, as you take a few steps forward outside, someonefrom behind roughly grabs your shoulders As you turn around, those gloves fall out of a crowded pocket, landing on the snowy sidewalk The hefty security guyretrievesthe gloves and nudges you back into the warmth of the store Somewhere in the distance, carolers are singing "Silent Night"

poetryrepairs #205 14.10:119

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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

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The Ecstacy of Metaphor
two crescents of an apple cut precisely in half overnight they must have mated as in a time-lapse photograph one half swollen, long stretch-marks curved over its skin the black seeds heaped on the platter must have spilled from the other for it takes only one to make a litter of apples so small I mistake them for red grains of dust but in minutes theyve packed a thick round of flesh between their cores & their skin a fast coat of gloss & that skin begins to shine so tempting I reach for an apple start to cut with my sharpest knife when suddenly Im surrounded-- an orchard of newly born appletrees smack in the heart of my kitchen & Im breathing appleblossoms even when I step outside where snows thickly falling the wind howling like wolves.

poetryrepairs #205 14.10:119

I have many things to write unto you but
I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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ROBERT JOE STOUT Exhibitionist
The crash! a shot. He saw cops come. Sirens jammed his ears. He tried to run But his two feet Bicycled in air. "Get out!" they yelled. "Don't gawk, Climb down!" but down He couldn't do. Two feet Above the ground he hung, His legs like useless wheels. They got their man (Not him, of course) But his affliction grew. Each time he saw a cop he rose While people watching jeered.

poetryrepairs #205 14.10:119

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. -- O.E.D.


BARBARA F. LEFKOVITZ : The Ecstacy of Metaphor
ROBERT JOE STOUT : Exhibitionist

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