Poetry: Edward Mycue

MAKE YOUR OWN OZ

Oz is a non sense.

Zen is moments of awareness.

Tao is letting moments go.

Zen sees in everything that is.

Tao moves in everything that is.

Oz you make that yourself.

POP-UP DEVILS (there’s always a new one) PUT IN & HELL

the stench and the knell and of bodies

of maggot and bell

lumped in the hall.

All the seasons of death reflect

the smell of bodies dumped

from the Putin Call – in the government hall

the knell of the last of the wars

as we’ve known them.

This I see them reflect from their call

with smooth society holds

in strife without end

mass death at bay

in a limited way.

The volcano of death

insures life.

As the Incas of old

we feed it our young.

One by one, throw them in

one by one.

• YOU HAVE TO LET A GREEN THING GROW

• It depends on what you are trying to conserve
You can react You can remember You can repeat

But the tree won’t grow.
You can save it You can dry it You can burn it
The tree is you You can share it You can preserve it But it will not remain a living tree.
Polish it Dust it Worship it It’s not going to breathe
Neither will you. You have to let a green thing grow.

Each takes life’s tests. There is uncontrolled damage.

Release seeks firecracker form. Life is a witch’s hair.

Each day is an auction of Who will buy me, When do I sell?

We are the early grape flat, dry, and cloudy.

The time is short, but some days never end.

There is no joyous lake.

There is no incantation

that can bend the moment back into the patterns we may see too late.

Early wine is

flat, dry, and cloudy and some days never end.

There is no joyous lake.

There is no incantation