Planet of the Arts vol. 3 no.6

For Certain

inside, it’s raining.
your house is falling in.
if i ran through the cold night
singing a long song,
would you stop?
you wear your lovers’
jewelry and clothes.

i guess it brings you closer
together.
Sometimes it’s really sad.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter.

J. R. A. Whitéla

Self

The type is hard to read

But he is a man of little words
He shuts his eyes

While NASA refuse from space
Falls to the ground behind him
Movements are few but jerky
He is a man tired of it all

Does it matter if we listen to the news?
All comes to an end

Then why the writings

Why the effort

And the man utters

What sounds like a prefix

Self

Jerry Stochansky

Strange Clouds

“It rains all the time here

And when it’s not raining

There are strange clouds everywhere,”

He said, with a smile too curious to decipher

“And it’s hard to get around
With all these clouds in the way
They block the sun

And when the wind whips up

It tosses me around

And | go spinning silently

| can hear the rain tapping
Against my window all the time
And it soaks my clothes

And skin to the bone

And I’m worried that | might
Shrink in size

When | finally dry.”

Lane D. Hartwell

April 1988

ie IN ee a

PENG UPSET!”

Pe sto!

cen of 2

Ava CAR INFINITE : SILK,
VET REMI Cope ig eal

Fina VEL-
TALWoop,

Ee eee ey (a ep’ Coe

, AG ie Green Wie

DiERY ihe stole Toh EAE iy
SHE COULD ‘Feel ingest Mes ene ce

KONUNCATIONS,
f SeD wt a HORNY ? PRSStONATE EUG:
We ee Woy Yu om

AV LUYING, ?
ES beetle! yoy ene EV, IN&-
mes me tte Nd Wer SCA HEE!” ni

ae ge reps | ol cAUED wp eae

a ae ae ial ge

13

11. Avoid activities in hot, humid weather.

i]

For Certain

falling in.
if iran through the cold night
singing a long song,

really sad.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter.

Self

Strange Clouds

“Itrains all the time here
And when it's not raining

‘There are strange clouds everywhere,”

He said, with a smile too curious to decipher

“And it's hard to get around
With all these clouds in the way
They block the sun

‘And when the wind whips up
Ittosses me around

‘And I go spinning silently

{can hear the rain tapping
Against my window all the time
And it soaks my clothes

‘And skin to the bone

‘And I'm worried that I might
Shrink in size

When Ifinally dry.”

Lane D. Hartwell

JR. A. Whittla ey A cee
e
ie,

Planet ofthe Arts vol.3 no.6 April 1968

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13