4 Poems by Ivan P.

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the sound of a thousand trains
shall not awaken a butterfly
that lost her mind somewhere
over the pacific
when mao composed
his first poems



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foreign words always full of bliss
and nasty meaning penetrate
dirty stars and wet pavement
in a town where
doleful mystery writers are born
every saturday and squirrels
silently laugh in the foliage



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dragonflies buried jesus
on saturn hiding the tears from
the void where the
rustle of
wings never ceases



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every tree forms a secret
wing every cheek yearns to
be smitten every eye longs
to see holy shit