Poetry by Richard Kovac

Billy Martin
The New York Yankees.
They were damned
on Broadway.
Note this.
Billy Martin
wanted to play
baseball
as he had known it.
The game has changed.
It is an antiseptic
show.
Not to scratch my crotch
is killing me.
Not to chew my wad
makes my heart bitter.
They are pursuing me.
Is this death
an accident?
(obit)


Bread and Knife
Bread is enuf for some
who fu1l-fed feast
upon loin of pork
or a puff on my cigarette;
but, more must bet
with Blaise
that something transcends
such mundane stuff
where the highway
is heavy with trucks
on the way to market.
Mark may make a start
to a higher road
on Monday.


Nail Poem
The acid test
of poetry
is honesty,
and this poem
is a maybe.
But if we have
no "if"
like this,
who can continue
to exist?
I say this
as the gist.

A nail in
a house
or a nail
in a coffin.
Maybe each.
maybe neither.
Whatever
is best.


Chant For The Nativity
Ry Mer Mas Cris
Mas Mer Christ Ry
Mer Chris Ry Mas
Mer Ry Chris Mas!


Chant For The Nativity #2
Noel Elno.
Everyone was
there though.
Elno Noel.
Well-known
Star-bright.
Alleluia!
Power and might
aligned with truth.
You were there as well
that night;
in the cave shined
a strange light.
Noel Elno.


Old Age Of A Rural Roue
Nothing beyond today
and its quotidian content
concern me now.
The dreams are gone
and I just plow the farm.
My rosebuds have
been gathered,
and I mount them
on the parlor wall,
as trophies.
What is there left
to live for,
except to sleep at night
and drink in the day?


Fire Hymn
Fire is
a brother,
as St Fancis says,
even in hell -
whatever the truth
if
I survive
to tell.
Fires of hell
and fires
of Pentecost
are alike.


World's End
The world will end
with a puff of smoke
if dragons breathe us
the end to hope.
Mind you, this is not
a complaint
about
secondary smoke,
and it is not
karaoke
either.



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