Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classics (2000-2011)
| HOME | FICTION | POETRY | SQUID | RANTS | archive | masthead |
Poetry #313
(published January 18, 2007)
The Hieroglyphic Bard
by Papa Osmubal

our elders
believed (and told
us) the gods
spoke to them
and they etched
their voice
on rocks
and in their



The hall is full of faces
many of them familiar
most of them sleepy.
A man talks about something he knows
that he thinks we do not know.
He is totally into it: the mic
is like a natural part of his body,
a surgeon is needed to sever it from him.
A guy next to me turns,
he smiles, he lazily shakes his head;
then, he closes his eyes to sleep or to daydream.



You, Verlaine, are a statue
and you deserve to be so
because you defy time.
In your eyes is a distance full of dreams—
winged dreams, dreamed wings.
You, Verlaine, are a statue—
your gaze is hieroglyph
your gaze is undecipherable.


(after Pepe Gotera's and Robert Wilson's poems of the same title)

He looks at the blank paper as though his gaze
would miraculously carve words on it

His candle is growing shorter now
its lazy flame ready to slumber

The shadows are tired and the lizards
that were on the ceiling have all gone

It is going to be very dark soon
he sips his wine and imagines the sky

Because he has to write and invent stars and eyes
because it is going to be very dark soon

Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece

see other pieces by this author

Poor Mojo's Tip Jar:

The Next Poetry piece (from Issue #314):

An Argument For Being A Prick or Philosophikal Consolation For A Man With A Small Prick, Big Dreams And An Unfulfilled Wife
by J.M. Munsil

The Last few Poetry pieces (from Issues #312 thru #308):

by Pete Lee

First Sex I Ever Saw
by John Grey

Taking the Girl
by Jonathan Hayes

Just Say No
by Pamela Tyree Griffin

by Victoria Clayton Munn

Poetry Archives

Contact Us

Copyright (c) 2000, 2004, David Erik Nelson, Fritz Swanson, Morgan Johnson

More Copyright Info