Search Moongate About Jodey Bateman Pablo Neruda Translations by Jodey Bateman Contributors Michael Eliseuson Ken Peters Daisy Sidewinder Uncle River Abuela Musica Jalapeno Peppers Children’s Page Finder Submissions

Poetry offerings from Moongate
Volume V, Issue #6, 9 April 1999

"The yellowgreen of springtime promises potential
where the dead horse lay."   - Sam Hill

     sometimes the light is so bright
                 EXIT 1 MILE
     that the shadows are darkest
                 EXIT ONE HALF MILE
     and I forgot my penumbrella
                 EXIT ONE QUARTER MILE
     but when I summon courage to look
                 EXIT ONE EIGHTH MILE
     the shadows disappear
                 EXIT ONE SIXTEENTH MILE
     somewhere on the planet
     there is always a ball in flight
     in defiance of gravity
     the arc of the flight a rainbow and  covenant
                 EXIT NOW
- Ken Peters

                    THE WARMTH OF THINGS

amongst the humans is the heartless world
but this pine is benign against my back
i cannot fault it for being indifferent
and dark where a fire has tried to climb

pale skin at the temples of the jeweler's wife
chewing her dinner shows off the fine cheekbones
but she's no threat to average looks
seems almost plain featured but for decoration
in fact she is on the rack right now
displaying his wares
through a three course meal
she is never let to finish a sentence

while out the near window
soundlessly side of a busy road
a woman is squating to adjust her pack
and seems very practiced at doing just that
shoulder to ground swings it down precisely
using the curb there to stay clear of the mud
and swats items into position to reach
something she wants from the bottom

then has it
and stands the pack back up with herself
dancing its inertia toward the next step
and scanning for traffic
humps its weight into gravity limbo
to tighten the packstraps
so the load turns tail wind
beam on billowing in her practical moves
she seems stoic heroic
woman calmly making her own way

wind shakes their reflections
flexing the glass
trying to merge the inside woman
with the outside woman
each one dimension short of a quorum

this heaving ponderosa pine
is rooted in rock here nine miles from town
and down the trunk telegraphs
the wind itself
singing and zinging as on marionette wires
commuting the stress of every gesture
i have no apparent duty but to listen in

- Robert N. Erman

the sun a hammer
I am reforged each morning
the ocean a retort
I am washed clean each night
the air a catalyst
I am rarefied and exalted
fire the kiln
I am liquid raku
thankful for the white blue flame

- Ken Peters

"All is perfect
like the rose with petals half open
is perfect."

                                                        - Summer Music