Three Poems

Rollo Nye

Inertia

In some vast emptiness
An opaque spiceless stretch of time
All lines barely separate earth from sky
And when the temperature falls
It is zero degrees of heartlessness
Every time I open my eyes
I am motionless.

How Much?

We are worth – something
A little used by now but-
new to this particular activity –
Still – we are the sort of criminals
we can relate to –
Smiling at the juncture of heart and directive.
Could it be we’ve finally learned to speak?
Our breath insists we end this call right here
But our own will fakes us out continuously
Like surgeons on the take –
Surrounded by night-
We wonder – from the depths of winter-
In our immutable private voices –
How much again for a heart?

And From That Time On
and from that time on
the center piece of the universe
you not me, said I.
what have I done to compose such a question!?
this, of course, was a question relegated to
the transformational nothingness atom theory,
the worship of the impersonal.
from that point on, I said just ask me.
I will tell you as I do say to myself
as sure as there’s God in heaven
it matters not
in the scheme of any idea.

Recurring Dream

Where were you Saturday afternoon at approximately 4:30?
Do you have any witnesses who can confirm your whereabouts?
Do I?
Well, there was a naked man spotted running through a park in Nassau County
And I’m sure this isn’t a dream
Oh, the dream
It’s a recurring one
I am sure I wasn’t dreaming at 4:30 last Saturday afternoon
Somebody must have been because a witness saw someone
And a naked man who has the audacity to run in a public park
In the light of day must have something to hide
By now I can feel my alibi breaking down since
I might have taken a nap at around that time, and
I can’t really explain how I got that mosquito bite on my rump
Well, you could put me in jail
But I’m afraid you can’t keep me from dreaming.

You Sore Me Crying With Matches in My Hand
the room is piled with books –
trees upon oceans
different colors
moving thru veins.
there’s the truth and
there’s the words s

Three Poems