(1212)   Mon 18 Mar 91  3:10a                            
By: Songbird
To: All
Re: Poetry for Psappho
St: 
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Ok... 
  
So it's poetry time in the garden.
  
Now, I'm going to be gone for a week or so, so please indulge me...
I'm going to post a few poems here...
If you want to respond... just remember I'll not be here for a week 
or so.  I will talk about 'em, but it'll take a while before I do.
  
See the next few messages....

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(1213)   Mon 18 Mar 91  3:12a                            
By: Songbird
To: Songbird
Re: Re: Poetry for Psappho
St: 
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         A.C. Gulls
.
   Flocks of white
 all far away
 across the small pond
 Untouchable
.
   Toss out my tempter's snare
 slowly they venture closer
 choose to close the gap
 Between us
.
   Suddenly a mass of white
 squawks of joyous discovery
 devour the wind-borne
 Crumbs
.
   And then go on
 ever in freedom
 to fly the winds
 . . . Not I
                                 5/19/90
                                 Songbird

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(1214)   Mon 18 Mar 91  3:14a                            
By: Songbird
To: Songbird
Re: Re: Poetry for Psappho
St: 
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this one is a couple years older yet, but I was reminded of it when 
I found out that the place I'm going to had about 8 inches of snow 
a few days ago...
  
OLD SNOW
.
Tell me why do I miss the snow so?
I've only been in Baton Rouge a month or two.
A year ago I traveled to Miercurea Ciuc
Bucharesti, Brasov, Sibiu--Rumania:
not quite Siberia--
.
But close enough.  Mercury showed twenty below
While folks at home had fifties, Fahrenheit.
What we saw here was walking furs and motionless mounds
of white.  And children in carnival rides, just to defy
the frigid sky.
.
To see the valleys as we climbed the mountain slopes
The thirty-eight of us huddled in the bus
and scraped, with little hope of clearing all the ice
from inside windowpanes, with concert bell set bars
and credit cards.
.
The snow I know now is on stamps of envelopes
Or in old photographs, but never in the air
(There never is nor will be snow in Baton Rouge).
And since I plan to stay for years on years, I might
never see white.
.

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(1215)   Mon 18 Mar 91  3:16a                            
By: Songbird
To: Songbird
Re: Re: Poetry for Psappho
St: 
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  I promise... this is the last one for a bit.
  
Enjoy.
  
  
   First encounters
.
Tentative reaching;
anonymous touch.
"Take a deep breath
and let's have some fun."
.
Becoming involved in 
a new exploration.
What is it I seek?
I don't know.
.
meandering touches,
typing off-handed.
what sharing is this?
Faceless, formless fantasy.
.
"You like this excitement.
Let me move along...
tell me how you want it"
Dammit, I don't know!
.
"Think of the time when you'll
hear my voice whispering:
God you're so beautiful."
Yesss.
.
Your body responds to
my fingers, you tell me.
Will I ever be able
to love living flesh?
.
Trembling encounters
with new-found emotions.
God how I need you!
But do you exist?
.
.