Poetry

sandalwood poem #6 I would enjoy even your telephone sadness for a little while that voice your center a cobalt blue drop the eye of the dragon my rill of pleasure come home soon my blind words they want to touch you and you are not here © John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

sandalwood poem #5 the two of us here and solitary our hopes of dreaming a landscape in ribbons the night a cold cruelty the long crossing and the waiting brakemans lantern omnipresent but not a sign for us the wind rocking it four engined diesel south bound for amarillo © John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

sandalwood poem #4   my anger is hidden I speak in whispers my spirit is ill waiting for an angel who will tell us what will become of us I say the wind beats me down my soul does timid a dead hydra a withered flower my brain recoils you look at me you consider […]

sandalwood poem #3 when you left you did not tell me how it would be this empty bed was a threshing floor now the wind turns our house around © John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

sandalwood poem #2 have you changed or is it I have lost my faith I am not with you anymore though you see how I am always here going down the same old road © John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

sandalwood poem #1 decaying shadows a compost of dreams a million galaxies sparrow sparrow you have mistaken the air © John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

Cemetery Walk Large gathering of people to tour the resting places of those who traveled here to Springfield or were born here or left and returned but all are spending their final slumber beneath the branches of Oak Ridge aristocrats and gentleman women of character and lowly con men all sharing the earth in this […]

old emblems where we have gone into our other selves we do not need to find each other at home in that country or bother to know what we know beloved things familiar images a place of concord the lights that burn there burn without flickering © John Knoepfle 2004

Our Song of Praise, when I was five In a church stuffy dry and hot. In a pink flouncy itchy dress I sat. Trying to be good. Playing with my blue pop beads. Pink pop beads. (they were snakes and two pop beads together was a baby snake.) And then the Sermon — I knew […]

when the residency ends it is only in the unfolding of the rose that you know the pulse of the rose and the giver when something goes dark behind your eyes © John Knoepfle 2004

boop I talked with this rabbi this was in california he came to celebrate a wedding had these suspenders two columns of betty boops I said well rabbi those are some suspenders he said he liked them but his wife thought they were a little bit much he used to be a wrestler wrestled when […]