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Poetry by Dan Gallik

He Concluded Without Being Cupid

The Iridescent Blue Body Of Our World


He Concluded Without Being Cupid

He was Polish,

and long winded, and ready
to be great except he was not ready
for the work. All the days

seemed like pages to him
and he never was a reader.

He wanted money.

And he wanted to learn
about God from God
himself. Time flew

and, as ever, God flew
past him. Never landing.
Never wishing his attention.

His faults he never worked on.

She was working, others were
working. As he worked and drank
he sunk into a phone that
continually rang and had
no one answering
except a recording.

Faithful to condescension
he lifted his fantasies
to irrecoverable nuisances.

To no effect he dug
his own grave.

His grandmother would come into the room
and ask him questions. He
never answered her honestly,
and she knew this,
but always believed he would

His uncle was his grandmother.
Never meant a thing to him.
Except someone to take money from.

Lately, he has been more alive.
Yet, he feels an emptiness.
The newspapers will never have his stories.

One time he tried to write Greek,
but Homer got in the way.

He wrote a letter to his niece.

He was told she was intelligent.

She was not. He said, "You are my

sylvan deity. My little life. I wish
you a Muse. But know

your mother would rather buy you
a dress from K-Mart.

Still, please reciprocally love me.
I need that. Even though I know you may
never understand it. You are the flower
of my old forgottens.

You are the second name of a shepherdess.
You are profound like a tulip I have never
seen or sniffed. Listen as the doors
in your house shutter even though no one
is entering. Attune the pipes of your
native Paris for me. Still, know

I am a Pole. I will never touch you

with my words. Just my intent.

Your beauty is what we men have always wanted.
But we were never allowed a lady like you.

That is why we are violent. With my love,
I intend only to scare you.

Never to hurt you.

Sincerely, Your Uncle" He said to himself,
"Trust no longer my soul."

The promises of the world became dark.

He wanted
finally to eat himself. But felt he could
never finish because he was on a diet that did
not include good things to eat.

As the wind shifted, so did he. He gave up

on her, on relatives, on any others who floated
by. He kept to himself. Totally.

Women kept talking. He was one
that did not change, kept fair to fairs.

Smoked a pipe. Love his one pipe.
Kept to himself. Died, finally died.

Fortune compelled him to be a dead servant.



The Iridescent Blue Body Of Our World

The creek splashed down
into a temperate valley. A steep
and sleek slab hung, it seemed,
diving deeper into the water.
The pool formed was six feet deep.

She unclothed, and hung around
on a rock showing her swollen
belly. I believe she was crying.

Beside the pool I believe I saw
a stick insect standing
on a small rock. But the rocks
left it hard to judge the size
of the terrain. The size
of the insect or the woman.

The raging water denied
the laborious journey the lady
was on. Viewing back, seeing
the scene as a whole, it seemed
all was camouflaged from being seen.
Yet, I could see it all.

Predatory birds hung in the air
above the valley. I did not
see what their eyes were viewing.

The woman had an unusual shape
as she sat and appeared to be
immersed in thought peculiar
to her social status.

Isotome rock structures, perennial herbs,
pale blue flowers with names I did not know
sludged from the rocks,
and the poison that was held
with the woman
ate away at the scene.

I could not find one thing succulent
about this story.

She seemed awake fully. Yet,
she suffered from some agonizing blindness.

This was Brandywine falls.

I had carried myself up this craggy hill.
Pied Butcherbirds were singing as I trudged.
I thought, I never did like their
ugly greenish breasts. Two dragonflies
sailed low over the surface of the pool

With the noise of the stream
this had become a singless plot.

I sat in a thicket above the scene. I
was not crying. I was laughing,
my usual maniacal attempts at humor.
I wasn’t going to do a thing.
This was also usual for me. My willie-
wagging posterior shifted only
because of the hard seat.

She was perched. Forever.
I was perched forever.

No other powers came close to this scene.
Both of us did not wonder
about this. We sat and waited
for something. What it was
was anyone’s guess.

As the sun set I noticed
a glimpse from the sky.
I did not look up. Neither
did the lady sitting on the rock
waiting for the water to turn
awfully cold.


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