[to the Poet, Cascade]
The great Cascade of Poetry will last
until the future no longer has any past;
long as thirst can be satisfied with a cool drink
of water; long as stars still shine and monkeys stink.
Starward
Author's Notes/Comments:
The last line appears, like this or in some variant, in several of my poems. It emerged out of a good friend's challenge to me to write a sonnet, which one of the lines must bear the phrase "monkeys stink" as its end, and must rhyme with at least one other line. Since then, the phrase "stars shne and monkeys stink" has become a metonomy for an incrediblly long length of time.
I offer this poem to Cascade in homage to her Poetry.
The ripples, of her own existence
The strange thing about Cascade is – she does not see the ripples, of her own existence. And though her vibrations permeate like rippled winds, through leaf-stripped October branches… she does not see it.
I am so sorry for failing to
I am so sorry for failing to respond to this comment in a timely manner. Please forgive me. I am not well, and not improving, so these mistakes may continue to happen to me, but not intentionally. I respect you very much and would not have willingly ignored your comment or snubbed you.
Starward