The Herald

Nothing more than abstract ornament,
explanations and discussions
keeping us to ourselves; we were
too petty for anything else. God
and Spirit, man and God again: no
insight into the common denominators.

Stupidity categorized the crews
taking over. In Canada, one was
reduced to waiting; at best,
you sent yourself notes (not poems)
hoping they would stay closed, or
fall open revealing all upon arrival.

You are lost either way. Death
enters your life: a troubadour
strolling through the provincial town.
Each gesture of government singing
the unwanted guest to bed, who is
finishing the last bite of food.

One brought no plans for conversation,
issuing invitations in the dark
he slips from his clothes. The livery
stark amusement, leaving only the arc
of a streetlamp which constellates:
the hard vistas of distant expectation.

 

©Dean Baker

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©Dean Baker

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Conjugation

This is the way we make love –
Words back and forth, innocent
Repartee and almost hidden
From ourselves, but she knows
I wouldn’t quit; she’s ideal, and

Though we might never meet
She could say yes any day; I’d be
More than ready every way, my
Vowels in place for greater conjugation:
Literature, my aim and obligation

©Dean Baker

The Lost Canadian, Early Poems Selected, e-book $7.99

latest e-books https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBJTJFP Shadow Boxing The Infinite

*****https://https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBDFWGB Phantoms Of The Northern Forests*****

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0917TF1K9 Steel Butterflies

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08ZJLWZ13 The New Poetry Hotel

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