Eugene Part Ill Florence October 8 1988 Perhapsitis the fate of every wounded soldier To waken to the beauty of An angel. In this world, perhaps It is a nurse in immaculate uniform With that smile That has seen a thousand limbs cut Cut off And Knowing not of her own omis- sion Tends to others gladly. And Perhaps in another world It is that winged victory of faith Uplifting the dead and fallen Who believe. (We shall never know) And Perhaps (Which | believe) We discover that those blades in our own backs Are the forgotten stumps Of our own lost wings It is the horrible. Beauty and irony Of this war That the victorious adopt power And not grace And the amputees (Who still realise feelings In their truncated bodies) Find more comfort In the depths of the water and sky From which they were borne. (And, Having been in this vastness) Find themselves lost, Speaking the language of the victors Whogobusily about their commerce The war is not over But, | have met such nurse And As fate would have it, Her name was Florence And ~ | did fall in love with her (Even though we both knew | would be discharged From this clinic.) | had come down from the hills In a careless moment of desire When | stepped on one of our own mines. | was engulfed By a vast sea of terror And | admit | was afraid Of seeing the ferryboat In the blackness Hurtled through space The night sky revealed the expanse Of its infinite being And ~ | knew my arms were gone And No longer needed: The war was over. (Bring arms Bring legs Bring wings For the wounded For they have not long To live Is to Bare arms) | flew | was free. In the darkness | saw a faint light And | flew straight to that Red glow And As | opened my eyes | saw her And fell. Our clever doctors had restored my arms ‘ My flight was ove And the war continued And war needs men. But She was there In the brilliant white light of morning And | was helpless. | forgot the war (It no longer existed for me) | forgot the wiles That had kept me alive Planet of the Arts Volume 7 Issue 3 ror TRe & Through these long days of strife And | found myself Coming down From distant hills In a careless Moment of desire. J. Wertechek Dreamtime Nov 7 1991 Summer floats off to dreamtime the darkness enveloping her she hugs the sheets so tightly clinging to ideals she wades through days feeling warmed by surroundings so vibrant colorful but empty, despite all their fullness, business in her dreams she walks the big sky talks the land paints the bones is enclosed by the soft velvet folds of wilderness within her soul her running images start slowly, languidly and build like a master drummer lost in the jungle going crazy pounding skins like he would die if he stopped starting slow, soft like november rains and they build weave half crazy faces figures out of the night air like sparks from a bonfire, so the memories fly at her Jeff Griffiths | thank you for protecting my area. Endorphin flow You dilated the afflicted region with blood and blue | tentatively touched the swelling the pain was minimal. Feeling had mostly evaded my sensory nerve endings leaving an effervescent numbness confined in cotton | keep this misfortune impregnable for fear of infection as colours and fluids warn me this is a restricted area. And | thank you, for not breaking my structure when | fell as scars have fade over time experience reassure me that one more time this adversity will heal Jayne Harrison The primrose will visit again soon | can feel the breath of her fragrance in my lungs Cradling the morning in her pink, she'll flow Through the clouded pastures of my eyes Emitting sweet meadows of summers past Jayne Harrison The Chasm Here | sit at the edge of the chasm, The dark and bottomless chasm known as love, Here | sit at the edge of the chasm, Listening to the horrific voices calling me from within. ek The voices which call to me are cold, Carried upon the stalest frigid air, The voices are beckoning me, And pulling me ever closer to the chasm’s edge. wee | look as far into the chasm as | can see, There is no glimpse of warmth or light, Only the neverending darkness, The chilled darkness we know to be love. The voices are calling to me louder, Crying for me to join them in their sorrow, The voices are tugging at me, Bringing me closer and closer to my salvation. Come into the darkness the voices cry, Let us help you from your pain, Journey with us into the darkness, The neverending darkness of love. wee 10 Here | totter upon the edge of the chasm, The dark and bottomless chasm of love, | relax every muscle and let the voices engulf me, And send me plummeting into my bottomless chasm of love. Jim Smathers Sienna The queens are in the courtyard preening their feathers Fanning their makeup, throwing their stoles It’s all too much for the ignorant tourist As emulsion drips down in the process of proof But it really is so strikingly attrac- tive. In chalky pastels, cooing with doves And | just get a picture of her in the Attic Miriam surrounded by long gone lovers Billowing sheaths of diaphanous fabric The silent flowing, ruptured by laughter Succumbed to weeping in the majesty of losing She falls to her knees on a moment of breaking Left behind memories recalled by their whispers A haunting reminder of something once precious Jayne Harrison Peirced the moment i got the nose ring ding-a-ling (i had visions of waking up in the morning, ring in my hand at my side my nose caked in red mud my nose in shreds healing finally) god, | wish I’d had the guts to do this in high school Jeff Griffiths A Ferry Ride You invited yourself with a cheesy smile, to slump your offending presence beside me. Invading my perfect space, compelled to remove my senses from the musical pleasantries You most definitely invited yourself, for | didn’t And | certainly had not welcomed you with any warm glances Can you not feel the scorn of niterumption in my eyes. Do not not perceive the distance Are you so thick to remain here, in unwelcomed and resentful company you are rude So it won't be an incorrect gesture to plug myself back into and out of your monotonous blithering. The grin slowly erased itself from your face, darkening your once avowedly charming character | gave myself the satisfaction of one more stifled glare observing your lips, moving in some mysterious orison | could only make out one word familiar to my hearing from one such as you -'Bitch’ confirming the typicality of your sort. Pacified- it was my turn to smile Jayne Harrison Eugene Part IL Florence October 8 1988 Peshapsitsthefateofeverywounded soldier Towaken tothe beauy of anangel. In this weld, perhaps {Risa nurs in immacuate uniform With that sie That has seen a thousand limbs cut Cutoff ‘And Knowing not of her own omis Tends to others gladly and Perhaps in another world Itis that winged victory of fth Upliting the dead and fallen Who believe (We shall never know) fad Perhaps (Which I believe) Wedlscover that those blades in our ‘own backs ‘Ace the forgotten stumps ‘Of our own lost wings itis the horrble Beauty and ony Of this war ‘Tat the victorious adopt power ‘And not grace ‘And the amputees (Who stil realise feelings In their runcated bodies) Find more comfort In the depths ofthe water and sky From which they were borne. od, Having been inthis vastness) Find themselves lst, Speaking the language ofthe victors Whogobuslyaboutiheircommerce The wars not over aut, UThave met such nurse ‘and Asfate would have, Her name was Florence and {id fla fove with her (en though we both knew | would be discharged From this ini.) {nad come down from the hil Ina careless moment of desire When [stepped on one of our own mines Iwas enguted By avast sea of terror fad admit was aad Of seeing the feryboat Inthe Blackness Hurtled through The night sky revealed the expanse OF ts infinite being re] Trew my arms were gone bed No longer needed: ‘The war was over. (@ring arms Bing lege Bring wings For the wounded For they have not long Tolve Isto Bare arms) In the darkness awa faint ight And | flew straight to that My fight was over ‘nd the war continued ‘nd war needs men. But She was there Inthebsilantwhitelightofmorning aod Iwas helpless. orgot the war ‘Gtino longer existed for me) Horgot the wiles ‘That had kept me alive Planet of the Arts Volume 7 lsue 3 ror rE & Through these long days of strife dnd ond mya hak you for protecting my atx Coming down Endorphin flow frm dat is Yu ted the afi region re vith blood and ue Tentatively touched the sweling the pain was minimal J. Wertchek Feeling had mostly evaded my sensory neve endings leaving an effervescent numbness confined in cotton | keep this ‘misfortune impregnable for fear of infection as colours and ids warn me thisisa resvicted are, ‘And | thank you, for not breaking ‘my structure when fl 35 Scars have fade overtime ‘experience reassure me that one this adversity wil heal Saye arin ‘The prose wil vist again soon {can feel the breath of her fragrance in my lungs Crading the moring in her pink, shel flow “Through the clouded pastures of my eyes Emitting sweet meadows ‘of summers past Dreamtime Smee. Nov7 1981 Summer floats off todreamtime the darness enveloping her she hugs the sheets so tghtly