I have painted a picture
of apples and pears
on a table
with
a vase of poppies,
then I ate the apples,
I ate the pears,
the poppies dried,
and I broke the vase.
The apple tasted sweet,
the pears were so juicy,
and the poppies were the yellow
of the sun
***
David Jackson
The Seasons at Great Meadows Wildlife Refuge Poem by Michael Estabrook
The Seasons at Great Meadows Wildlife Refuge
Summer
rotted tree stumps,
splaying bright green ferns,
and skunk cabbage
and rich thick dark mud,
like a chocolate milkshake
Autumn
Raining pine needles
and leaves,
and the earth
is soft and
brown beneath my feet.
Canadian geese
honk melodiously overhead.
Winter
Frozen fields dusted with snow,
frozen ponds surrounded by trees
stiff as rusted robots,
clouds are fuzzy cracks in the sky
letting out the blue.
Spring
I notice these great giant bluish fish
in the shallows, splashing and bumping
into the dried, cracked reeds, but I’m thinking again
of Christine my first girlfriend so many years ago,
remembering so clearly her dirty blonde hair,
her green eyes like dragonflies,
her soft pink lips unsoiled yet by the rigors
and toil and injustices of life.
Neanderthal Harvard Poem by Michael Estabrook
Neanderthal
I’m in Harvard’s Widener Library,
funny place for me to be
considering my pedigree, and (let’s face it)
my basic intelligence (or lack thereof).
But I’m here taking a night class, studying
and learning, commiserating with
other students, all of whom
are smarter than me. But
if I don’t tell them that my father was
a car mechanic and his father a butcher how
will they ever know? What
would most impress me would be to earn
a PhD in Philosophy from Harvard
University (found Robert Nozick’s office,
315 Emerson Hall, stood there contemplating,
then brushed up against it, trying to
absorb his philosophic ether which
was hanging no doubt in the stale hall air).
Of course, there is as much chance
of this happening as Neanderthal coming back
to life. But I can’t fix my car either
like Dad could, so have spurned my lineage,
and am denied my academic
aspirations, caught between first
and second. Neanderthal indeed. Hey!
My daughter just scored 700
on her math SAT! Yikes! There’s hope
for us yet. Do you think they’ll clone
a Neanderthal one of these days?
freezing outside Jesus poem by Michael Estabrook
freezing outside Jesus
yes it has been a busy season
you guys definitely seem busier than
anyone else I know,
do you ever just sit and relax together,
watch a little TV, listen to some
mood music, read a book?
or is it always go go go!!!
I’m feeling very guilty I haven’t
been to Florida to visit Grandma
for so long; was going to go down when
Mom was in Africa, but then Robin
decided to have her foray
in Somerville ghetto
and I couldn’t go anywhere; so my plan
is to go down in a couple months;
my Aunt Alice (she was the one
who came to Laura’s Bentley graduation,
remember she got lost and sat on a bench
crying) is moving down near
Grandma and if all goes right
she should be settled by March;
then we can go down, see my mother
and her 2 sisters, then head over
to Kerry and Todd;
sure you want to do such a thing?
would be fun to bother Kerry again,
he’s always been an easy mark
Return from vacation poem by Michael Estabrook
CLASS HEXACTINELLIDA
After 2 weeks
on the beach in
the salt air and sun,
my return to work
wasn’t easy.
The fluorescent lights
made my eyes water;
the pounding of computer
printers and
photocopy machines
made my head ache.
I had to close
the door, closing my world
in even smaller.
I wished I was back
in college again
listening seriously this
time to Dr. Brenowitz
preach about the pleasures
of being a marine biologist,
going to sea for weeks
collecting
phytoplankton and zooplankton
and rare specimens of the
Class Hexactinellida.
(the ocean crested and
lapped at me more now that
it was far away,
so far far away.)
***