Two Poems

David Shapiro

UTTER AVENUE

He deduced from all aesthetics

in small boldface with shining serifs:

“He got nothing”

Translated from the Norwegian:

“Pleasure is so difficult,

like tennis, like music,

sorrow is so sly, so easy.”

He wept all over the dream.

Received the dream-letter:

“Forgive me for (you) using you

It jolts me to think of uh it—”

Theology had apologized.

At the old grammar school, at the beginning,

father exploded. A critic wrote

“I’m not much on textures,

dreams, verbal links;

and not very big on satire, either.”

Thank you for liking the last line the subject on fire

or fire in the photograph.

THE EGYPTIAN RECENSION

I confuse all peace

And fortune here.

I composed it as

It is on mountain air.

I want. Want what?

Want a cat?

And provide poor private

Ash with light.

Air and sugar. Snow

In the mouldy mouth.

“Launched a little boat,

Will see how it goes.”

To part you from Bea.