| InterBoard Poetry Competition | |
PAN D. Ouellet THE SOUL AND THE DEVIL Guy Kettelhack (GuyBlakeKett) THE MATTAPAN DEAD H. Novack (Yankeedog)
Ignorance is freedom.
Pan knew that—
not the green-clad,
hands-on-hips,
cloud-skimmer Pan;
but the first Pan—
flute poised to craft
the jurr of water
over stone,
bird’s wing flutter,
sigh of seed descending
to sleep in a silent
earthen tomb.
Today, Pan would dance,
light as thistledown
through vacant lots,
ignorant of trees
become steel girders,
woods concrete jungles,
as he piped a forest
green and primeval,
captured for eternity
in the fabric
of one perfect
resounding note.
Here’s what
let’s say about this.
The sin is never
in a kiss:
it’s whining that
a kiss is not enough.
The soul finds
pleasure in gesture.
The devil wants
more stuff.
The Mattapan dead stay impassive,
We pass joints under the obelisks,
My fellow cadets at the Academy of Citystreets
Over the years,
The feedback grows,
The voices wane,
The pictures fade
That time dissolved into a screaming Hendrix cadenza,
So hard to pick out each theme
They slice us up and we buy the pieces back.
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