Poems From Providence - The Poet's Press

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4 It was worth the wrath of Hera and the mockery of the wine-drunk gods. “Zeus with a boy? A stripling boy! Poor child, he’ll waste away on arid Olympus, turn to a withered ancient while Zeus forgets him in one of his longer slumbers.” To their astonishment, the Titan forfeits sleep, sends to the boy each dawn a cup of nectar and a slice of Pomona’s apples.
5 He summons the troupe of ageless gods puts on his grey-beard visage and says: “None but Ganymede shall bear this cup, none but Ganymede shall serve me wine, and his the hands that pour clear water. None but Ganymede shall turn the clouds on which I rest and forge my thunder. One tithe of my lot of immortal life I give so that this boy will never age. His voice will stay at the threshold of manhood, his locks unshorn, his beard withheld. He shall not shed even the salt of a tear, immutable in my affections, semidivine, safe from the envy of goddesses. Let him attend me always.” As seal of his oath, great Zeus displays the form of Ganymede among the elder worlds, joining the sun-path zodiac, the faithful boy, star-striding Aquarius.
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POEMS FROM PROVIDENCE by BRETT RUTH
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CONTENTS AUTUMN POEMS 13 October Is
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184 The McWilliams’ Coffee Table
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POEMS FROM PROVIDENCE
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drifting ghostlike and invisible on
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3 Listen! October is coming! It wil
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THE STATE VERSUS AUTUMN RESOLVED: F
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NOT YEARS ENOUGH How many autumns m
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THE SAILOR AND THE OAK NYMPHS Oak w
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then turning to mockery of his all
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END OF THE WORLD Not with a trumpet
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Stockbrokers adjusted their power t
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THE OUTSIDER Some say that spring i
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oll in this new moon blanket with m
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waiting for the bat, the creeping m
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I waited, I waited — He never arr
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THE ARGUMENT “Two decades ago tha
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AVOIDING THE MUSE Silent this voice
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The clouds make way, open a blue do
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WRITER’S BLOCK For Barbara A. Hol
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This state of things will never do!
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BOARD GAME It is a game that never
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CREATION REVISITED 1 According to U
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But now the horizon rages with whir
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Is it invisible, this imago of Wint
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(the fathers knowingly, in jest, th
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The does take bubble baths. At dusk
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ECLIPSE How like the moon, that sul
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EDGAR AND HELEN Edgar Allan Poe and
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2 Moon and the flames of candled gl
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3 Coffined in his sleepless rooms,
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One truck hurtling toward gates lik
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These crows are not informers. A sh
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eside him, “Comrade, what if I cr
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And then he will send them away, do
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You have become an allergy, an anti
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IVAN GROZNI Ivan Grozni Tyrant of t
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Yet who are these ghosts that crowd
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dust devil’s playground when all
Page 87 and 88: Winter is honest, at least, the bui
Page 89 and 90: all now are only names in peeling p
Page 91 and 92: PLAGUE It is a plague — an epidem
Page 93 and 94: JUST REWARDS WELCOME TO HEVIN a sig
Page 95 and 96: Stalinists and Maoists, Progressive
Page 97 and 98: THE EVANGELICALS ARE COMING! Who ne
Page 99 and 100: BLUMENSTÜCKE The parlor frowned wi
Page 101 and 102: The combinations were shocking as s
Page 103 and 104: ROADSIDE VIEWS It is the way of tra
Page 105 and 106: RUINS Passing the gutted neighborho
Page 107 and 108: WATER SPRITE Who made you, this ful
Page 109 and 110: It draws us, real and unreal mortal
Page 111 and 112: Time is an endless line wound in a
Page 113 and 114: A shaman sat here, useless for hunt
Page 115 and 116: AT THE COKE OVENS I wanted to see m
Page 117 and 118: I played here as a child, amid the
Page 119 and 120: Moving to field and orchard, Ben na
Page 121 and 122: THE CEMETERY BY THE LAKE Edinboro L
Page 123 and 124: I miss that tree. If one of the gra
Page 125 and 126: You did not know the gourd was holl
Page 127 and 128: who lured me with promises and sea-
Page 129 and 130: In the scant shade of his splintere
Page 131 and 132: It was you who raised the child in
Page 133 and 134: GANYMEDE 1 Night after night the pa
Page 135 and 136: 2 The boy felt the tense of lightni
Page 137: Beauty too soft for marble, subtle
Page 141 and 142: The boy did not resist, but let his
Page 143 and 144: 8 Ganymede thinks only of Zeus. No
Page 145 and 146: 10 I like to think of the gods stil
Page 147 and 148: THE RANSOM OF GANYMEDE 1 THE TEMPLE
Page 149 and 150: 2 THE SIBYL AT DIDYMOS It is a plac
Page 151 and 152: “What would we shepherds want wit
Page 153 and 154: With this, the Sybil collapses unco
Page 155 and 156: enduring the seismic embrace of her
Page 157 and 158: Yet Hera hesitates. She knows the G
Page 159 and 160: and there, trembling and pale, the
Page 161 and 162: 3 GANYMEDE’S PLEA Ganymede offers
Page 163 and 164: a plaything, upstart and crude. Jea
Page 165 and 166: “It’s really a mercy I turn the
Page 167 and 168: T H I N G S S E E N I N G R A V E Y
Page 169 and 170: 2 SACRIFICE Before a cenotaph in ci
Page 171 and 172: (Silt, fish, flotsam flow from Youg
Page 173 and 174: 4 NIGHT SHIFT At two in the morning
Page 175 and 176: They watch for a long time, wait fo
Page 177 and 178: An ectoplasmic virgin blushes, aver
Page 179 and 180: for this night of nights, summer’
Page 181 and 182: 8 SALEM At Salem the burying ground
Page 183 and 184: 9 THE FORGOTTEN GRAVESTONE At Swan
Page 185 and 186: THE McWILLIAMS’ COFFEE TABLE So t
Page 187 and 188: SCENES FROM A MEXICAN VAMPIRE MOVIE
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3 Things go wrong at the American b
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Never knew what hit them or how a b
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Who wrote the note? The blonde on t
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T H U N D E R P U S S: I N M E M O
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We keep our vigil against the time
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yet terrified, into the hands of th
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nothing would daunt your interest i
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I watched you dreaming: the twitch
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7 We became one person, shards of t
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It was not done in a daze. The sun
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A T L O V E C R A F T ’S G R A V
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2 We stand about, a handful swellin
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Earth reels beneath our feet into t
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5 Later a golden moon lifts up, swo
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LOW TIDE “The tide was flowing ou
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Then why should a fireball plummet
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In the stillness of museum night, t
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And there, the steeple on distant F
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prisoners un-decapitated, toxins un
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a literary man, to be sure, a lawye
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“I fear the wine speaks now. Perh
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Here Pabodie would say no more, but
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unquenchable, to fall into her arms
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and flying across the parlor to him
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so that these seeds transcend to se
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HERE AT THE POINT Secret transcript
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Those Lovecraft fans are the worst.
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TO THE ARC OF THE SUBLIME In nights
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We are the scourge of entropy. We s
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ABOUT THE POEMS The following notes
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DEER HUNTERS was inspired by a trip
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INDIAN ROCK SHELTER recounts an eve
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SCENES FROM A MEXICAN VAMPIRE MOVIE
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ABOUT THE POET Brett Rutherford, bo
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