Moon Child
(For Chris)
Belly upward to press, probe, then -------------
whoosh, a huge somersault, series of headstands
again bouncing back, a clam's secret pearl sifting
mists, plasma, lava lamp nebulae, the persimmon
hued, precious, fish-lit, this pacific, this amniotic
salt sea widening bedazzled, gravity-less:
the gill-made baby breathing comet-tailed
throughout the canal of birth.
Rain Walk
Chrysanthemums, the bouquets strong
hands bring dripping, each bead as saline clear on the skin I live in momentarily
with eyes imagining the aerial-----
Those streets, black blue ribbons,
film slick, you travel through,
collar furrowed, unfurled umbrella,
in an oriental waltz of vendors,
push carts, stalls, awnings, all
a drizzle, Renoir-lit by smiles passing & eyes I hear
the sighs of in the shell of
your coat bringing the flowers
Home.
A resident of NY, Stephen Mead is an Outsider multi-media artist and writer. Since the 1990s he's been grateful to many editors for publishing his work in print zines and eventually online. He is also grateful to have managed to keep various day jobs for the Health Insurance. In 2014 he began a webpage to gather links of his poetry being published in such zines as Great Works, Unlikely Stories, Quill & Parchment, etc., in one place: Poetry on the Line, Stephen Mead For links to his other media (and even merchandise if you are interested) please feel free to Google Stephen Mead Art.