BERT MEYERS ~

A YEAR IN A SMALL TOWN

1


Surrounded by flowers,

bees drowning

in the housepainter's pot.




2


Today, I know

I haven't done as much

for this world as a tree.




3


Children bring home

stones instead of friends;

the blackbird has a golden eye.




4


Spring, that young man

is wearing the shirt

I was wounded in.

IN THE YARD

The grasshopper goes for a ride,

its little sprocket spins

over the earth.

The lizard, five inches of stream,

flows under a board.

The leaf runs from the cat.

A moth's a pharaoh in search

of a tomb full of light,

and a bumblebee explains

to the morning-glories

the joy of being a telephone.

Only the woman knows

what the man's for.

 

TWILIGHT AT THE SHOP 

 

A whole day at the saw —

when they come for the rubbish,

I throw myself

out with the dust.



We smile and smoke and praise

what's left of the sun.

Dark trees have bottled its light.

They glow like many beers.

I CAN'T SLEEP

 

I can't sleep.

I wish we were young,

in a different house,

in a different town.

I can hear the dog

run away in her dream;

outside, raindrops —

their tender hoofbeats

trapped in the courtyard

of a leaf.

OLD

Their children are gone;

almost everyone

they loved and half

of what they understood,

has disappeared.



But the door's still open,

the porch light's on;

a little wind at night

and they hear footsteps

when a few leaves fall.



___________________________

In A Dybbuk's Raincoat

Collected Poems
Bert Meyers
edited by Morton Marcus and Daniel Meyers
University of New Mexico 2007





bert meyers photo : elliot erwitt