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Middle Earth various issues, 1967-1968
Page 8
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Middle Earth page eight POET white/red memories it is snowing and somehow this snow more than any other ive seen in the past eleven years makes me think of russia of my parents of a sleigh and a fur muff food cooked in linseed oil an oil stove that didnt keep a tworoom apartment warm warmth came from my mothers candles and her perfume it always snowed in russia i dont remember any sun but i remember guns goodbyes with no one left to give them to a train ride in america there is a sun but candles are only pretty Marybeth Prejean for pat someone sang a song for me once it was a sad song and fingers cried on guitar strings i didnt but i was sad too Marybeth Prejean AT HENRY'S IN THE AFTERNOON This house is next to a grocery store and people walk by empty handed then come back with lumpy brown paper bags. I think I like brown paper bags when I don't know what's in them. Marybeth Prejean RAIN Sounds that moved me Met by the night In a world of wetness The storm Playes as I Danced through the streets With the glimmering reflection Of the street light My only partner Edger Stiltskin (Rumple' DECEIVEMENT OF THE AMERICAN FLYER Peddle the bicycle down the muddy road Being careful no to soil your cuffs Peddle, peddle all the while Letting the wind sting your face Getting a sore ass from an impoverished seat And reaching the bottom only to find An oceanic puddle of mud Ready to consume and devour Reaching for the brakes and finding They jumped off half-way down the hill The chain is broken and the gulf too wide And you realize that the inevitable plunge Is just that Inevitable Sigh, the ground is close Now the drumming of the rain as it plays On the tomb Peddle the bicycle There is no end.... Edger Stiltskin Poets of Iowa City and Surroundings Countryside!!! In future issues of MIDDLE EARTH, 'Poet' will be a regular feature. If you would like to have your material published locally, send it to us c/ o 'Poet' MIDDLE EARTH, 410 S. Clinton, Iowa City Iowa, 52240. This rag is for pen freaks, too. Ed
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Middle Earth page eight POET white/red memories it is snowing and somehow this snow more than any other ive seen in the past eleven years makes me think of russia of my parents of a sleigh and a fur muff food cooked in linseed oil an oil stove that didnt keep a tworoom apartment warm warmth came from my mothers candles and her perfume it always snowed in russia i dont remember any sun but i remember guns goodbyes with no one left to give them to a train ride in america there is a sun but candles are only pretty Marybeth Prejean for pat someone sang a song for me once it was a sad song and fingers cried on guitar strings i didnt but i was sad too Marybeth Prejean AT HENRY'S IN THE AFTERNOON This house is next to a grocery store and people walk by empty handed then come back with lumpy brown paper bags. I think I like brown paper bags when I don't know what's in them. Marybeth Prejean RAIN Sounds that moved me Met by the night In a world of wetness The storm Playes as I Danced through the streets With the glimmering reflection Of the street light My only partner Edger Stiltskin (Rumple' DECEIVEMENT OF THE AMERICAN FLYER Peddle the bicycle down the muddy road Being careful no to soil your cuffs Peddle, peddle all the while Letting the wind sting your face Getting a sore ass from an impoverished seat And reaching the bottom only to find An oceanic puddle of mud Ready to consume and devour Reaching for the brakes and finding They jumped off half-way down the hill The chain is broken and the gulf too wide And you realize that the inevitable plunge Is just that Inevitable Sigh, the ground is close Now the drumming of the rain as it plays On the tomb Peddle the bicycle There is no end.... Edger Stiltskin Poets of Iowa City and Surroundings Countryside!!! In future issues of MIDDLE EARTH, 'Poet' will be a regular feature. If you would like to have your material published locally, send it to us c/ o 'Poet' MIDDLE EARTH, 410 S. Clinton, Iowa City Iowa, 52240. This rag is for pen freaks, too. Ed
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