QUIET MAN





Soft suede boots made no sound

He appeared as a ghost through early Spring snow

From the direction of the canyon they call Hell

High desert flakes dust his hat and his back

He led a pale horse with pale blue eyes

Steady and strong hauling his pack.

I invited him rest a bit by my fire

Saw to his horse, nodding he knelt

He kindly refused offered food or help

Took only some coffee from my rusted cup

Hands hard used but somehow soft

The flames lit a face revealing no age

Beard rimmed jaw, eyes deep creased

A gift of a smile beyond pain long ceased 

I go to the mountain whence cometh my help

No need to question the man himself

 I saw in him all he would tell

He soon rose soundless, gathered his horse

To continue to weave his private course

I would descend to continue mine

Separate souls bound by delicate twine



BITS AND PIECES V

Blame it on the Greeks, or Newton.
We've learned to chop it up
into manageable bits.
Observe.
Record.
Write the equastion.
There's no mystery.
The wallflowers all agree:
they don't like to dance.
The thoroughly modern Times was matter-of-fact about it:
8 P.M. E.S.T. the Moon occults with Venus.
Nothing woo-eee-woo here!
Just don't miss your chance.
See? Time is a line in print.
Guests gather at night in the street to watch.
The rare sight in the dark overhead stuns.
Balloons rise, corks pop, voices rise
Like a shout from the wedding chamber above
signaling the marriage begins.
I feel like dancing a Zydeco whoop-de-do
Friends begin leaving. One bore remains
to continue his scientific droning where the Times left off.
While Venus hangs a miracle on the point of the Moon
he's on and on about how he's changed since he left the corporation.
What a joke. Oh God.
I wonder if there is any wine left.

BITS AND PIECES IV



I used to to fancy myself an alien here:
secretly dangerous somehow. I had to confess
i'd been naturalized like most other women
who had little free time on their hands.
I meditated along well-stocked aisles of the supermarket.
I found peace in well-decorated rooms.
I found something like joy driving my BMW.
Anyway, by now i've touched everythng
my housemates eat and wear:
My scent rarely scares them anymore.
They permit me to roam freely
and trade but little for time to do as I will.


AJA 

SYNC

 

un cailloux jeté dans l’étang
ou le battement d’ailes du papillon
secoue le nœud de nature entier
car tout est lié
tu ne le trouves pas
toi aussi?



Nous adorons et
nous détestons nos compagnons
nous sommes plus bien informés qu’eux
finalement eux, nous sommes !
faut leur demander pardon ;
mes chers, un atome ne nous sépare point!
tu ne le trouves pas
toi aussi?

Si Dieu voit que le monde est bon
il nous applaudit avec les plumes,
sourit comme l’homme dans la lune :
il garde le secret de son silence
notre cliquetis est en vain- quel émoi !
il ne nous reste que nos choix
tu ne le trouves pas,
toi aussi ?
___
A pebble thrown in a pond
Or the beating of the butterfly's wings
Bestirs the whole of nature's web
As all of nature is bound together
Haven't you found it so?
Haven't you?

We love and
We hate our fellow travelers
We are much smarter than they are
But in the end we are they!
We must ask them to forgive us
Dear friends, hardly an atom separates us!
Haven't you found it so?
Haven't you?

If God sees that the world is good
He applauds us with feathers,
Laughs like the man in the moon:
He keeps his secret in silence- what a surprise!
Our choices are all that remain
Haven't you found it so?
Haven't you?

--Ann Ahnemann

HIGH SCHOOL

Before the Shortline
takes them to the front
my hero parents cry,
Bye! Have a good day!
and send me forth
to congregate by the football field
to smoke and shoot the breeze
and make out somehow.
Here, childhood dies umourned.
Gather the necessary 'what';
'why' is not on the test.
I have my symbols:
Gay, Straight, Guess, Grateful Dead.
I attend disappointing seances
on the leather of dad's Mercedes,
go on AmEX pilrimages to Europe.
Even at the Salisbury Plain
when the solstice pours over the dolmens
there is no escape.
I was born to fall in step,
singing.

--Ann Ahnemann









Before the Shortline
takes them to the front
my hero parents cry,
Bye! Have a good day!
and send me forth
to congregate by the football field
to smoke and shoot the breeze
and make out somehow.
Here, childhood dies umourned.
Gather the necessary 'what';
'why' is not on the test.
I have my symbols:
Gay, Straight, Guess, Grateful Dead.
I attend disappointing seances
on the leather of dad's Mercedes,
go on AmEX pilrimages to Europe.
Even at the Salisbury Plain
when the solstice pours over the dolmens
there is no escape.
I was born to fall in step,
singing.

--Ann Ahnemann