Poetry

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 […]

outdoor stage this space so empty in the wind a silence this evening where it seems only the silence itself has meaning until one night in a thousand this nondescript shred of humanity creeps into a surprise of light an apology coming forward on the stage a man trembling with uncertainty that no one has […]

Out of Context I perfect the fake half-smile disguise buying a minute — to recall if I know your name or you just look like someone whose name I know begins with M, or maybe Z? or where I should know you from . . . Soon I add the nodding non-committal ear accepting our […]

sister miriams poem now a dark matter our perfumed space polished with light a woman combing her long hair beyond existence beyond our coming and going where his sandals were a scent lingering from compassion the blast of crude nails cannot change this the old sister will tell you martha did her part she expects […]

i can’t think of a title well there is one child standing on two children and these two are standing on three children so that makes six six children and my granddaughter has this stuffed dog named ben goes with her on long flights from alaska and this dog can spell MOM for no particular […]

Portrait I used to carry in the pocket of the brown waist coat given to me by my father, a man of muscular build and little patience for that which he had modest understanding, especially issues of foreign policy and affairs of the heart, of which my mother is guilty of being susceptible, dangling her […]