The Stars

In the dark away from cities

be drawn to the stars

like grandparents before

who stared from grassy knolls

their back caressed by earth

All dreams begin with stars

winding their lives like clocks

until the key to time is lost

Dreams that begin with stars

shave with diamond shards

so no hair of thought

extends beyond the face of it

Each dream is smooth

for itself and another

just as a lover's pinch

is drawn to smooth skin

The dream for peace

does not reach beyond itself

but remains pure of heart

The dream for love

has no further shore to settle

The dream for knowledge

travels through the universe

with an invisible ship and sail

Hold these dreams close

for they appear bright ghosts

as sunlight fades from day

These molten shadows of hope

retain all that came before

enclosed in their wispy shells

true for all the ages

as they fly through the dark

Barry G. Wick

Roller Coaster

It became my Mother's home

on Rapid Creek up the hill

on nine miles of two lane

from where her condo

had been destroyed

by the great flood

down canyons

It had been

lightly flooded

but the old couple

who had lived there

decided to move away

rather than risk another

Mother was brave that way

The house came to me

at the end of her life

as she lay in a bed

at a town home

where nurses

could do little

with her swallow

all wrong and gagging

food and water impossible

to take in at her advanced age

It all was sold to pay the bills

furniture and everything

gone in an auction

and I slept

on the floor

of that house

until two weeks

before it quickly sold

An empty house yields

its darkest secrets

wall cracks

webs

attention

all you movers

there is no one to move

Barry G. Wick

The Last Embrace

(for Juan Ramon Guerrero and Christopher “Drew” Leinonen)

It wasn't planned this way.

Families were to be invited.

Flowers, cake, and all

chosen to make the day

so special for them

and for everyone they knew.

No one can predict rain.

Clouds sneak in to skies

to play dark games.

It is the same with people.

Some people are so dark

they cannot share in love.

While sharing their love

with friends, the clouds came

when light changed to dark

for one and then the other.

The last embrace unplanned

kissing their crimson altar.

Barry G. Wick

Sounds: Part II

Within a thousand yards
of Interstate 80
the mechanized music
of mankind and money

Late at night
when local noise is gone
motors and tires
sing to each other
as lovers might
sweetly squeal
arching in ecstasy

The thump of a gap
between a bridge
and the highway creates
an irregular drum beat
as a concrete hand
strums the belted radials

Diving in and out
the bass notes
from truck engines
delivering the reefers
along side flat beds
their steel passengers
lulled to sleep until
the announced destination

Empty aluminum boxes
full of internal echoes
appear and disappear
full of Doppler poetry
spoken as if
their poets are born and die
within universal seconds
They are victims
of the cruel dictators
from time and space

These blended notes
form symphonic manuscripts
inside the tired mind
as the open window
allows its conductor
to gently fall asleep
dreaming of the sounds
of love and loss
pain and pleasure
joy and jealousy


Barry G. Wick

Sounds

Surrounded by

sounds of a Tuesday.

Outside

a mower rattles

across a corner of concrete

bringing control

to the ever disturbing grass

that threatens civility.

Inside

the air conditioning

keeps the Iowa heat and humidity

at bay,

and we mustn't have anything

out of the bay.

A pleasant Bach Sarabande

tries so desperately to compete

with all this machinery,

as a squeak

from a challenged office chair

complains the words aren't flowing

fast enough to satisfy it.

Perhaps these sounds

are all critics:

“You'll never be loud

enough to quell a mower!”

“Your mind won't be cool

if you argue

with your air conditioner!”

“Dichter sind die lauteste Publikum!”

screams Herr Bach

from his peaceful tomb.

And finally from my office chair,

“You're fat!”

Barry G. Wick

The Poet's Photo

That gasbag

Dumbforbrains Thunderjaws

runs for office

If IT wins

all the poets who wrote

unkind "nerd mcwords"

about IT

will be rounded up

for their police photos

much like

the NKVD photo

(Народный комиссариат внутренних дел)

of Osip Mandelstam

who displeased

Uncle Joe in Russia

Two different sets

of smug

and resistance laden images

attaboy Osip

I hope I'll be arrested

for my poetry

because I can think

of nothing more lasting

than the photo of a poet

charged with poetry

just before he or she

went into the mashamatic

or perished in the gulag

Such a cover

for the collected poems

there never was

that should sell

for years beyond years

It's very hard to get arrested

for writing anything

in the United States

One must threaten

great bodily harm

Since I'm non-violent

in a physical sense

I shall poetically do

the only action possible

I intend to commit poetry

on Dumbforbrains Thunderjaws

I shall

eviscerate verbiage

reposition prepositions

adjudicate adjectives

assault adverbs

confront conjunctions

neutralize nouns

plunder pronouns

injure interjections

detonate determiners

I shall sabotage any badinage

I shall devastate the dictates

I shall disarm discussion

I shall detonate debate

I am prepared to suffer

every poetic act

for the want

of a police photo

with my name and numbers

The headline shall read

CHARGED WITH POETRY

I shall serve my time with dignity

Barry G. Wick

(To support and defend writers in prison

please visit the website of

Pen International

who does exceptional work

to alert the world when

writers of conscience

are attacked and in trouble

worldwide)

Loneliness: a primer for training

There are trainers

who teach being alone

It starts at an early age

with something

as simple as piano lessons

age four comes to mind

which is much too early

Then the house has to be

far enough away from others

few children in the neighborhood

a long walk to school alone

through a forest

filled with dark imaginings

and an older sibling

who races ahead

so as not to be seen

with the intended loner

The parents must be aloof

from each other

only talk of business

no kisses or hugging allowed

of each other or the children

These are must-obey rules

Be sure to find fault

with the child

when it can barely understand

the language of fault

A spanking will set

invisible marks

Instead of laughing off

the childhood foibles

everything must be serious

This also makes the child dependent

when praise is given

usually in excess

Be sure to overfeed

The child will learn

that food is reward

instead of project accomplishment

Eating will occur

in the dark hours

when everyone else is in bed

Eventually all meals

will seem normal

when eaten alone

Be certain the mother

drags the child to her

social events or shopping

so the child just stands around

waiting on the next place

to stand alone

The backseat

is a loner's kingdom

As the child grows

make it do things it doesn't

want to do

and be certain

to deny it all the things

it wants to do

Make excuses

like

“The hands will be hurt”

Shop for and buy

clothes and shoes

almost every day of the year

The child

gets nothing it wants

except for

one day of the year

before school starts

This will establish

the child's unimportance

and the parent's totality

Be sure to establish

a sibling rivalry

so that one child

gets more than the other

The choice of what

does not belong to the child

but to the parent

As the years go by

the child will remain a child

and won't know

how to be tender

how to be loving

all relationships will fail

all friendships will have distance

all beginnings will end

All endings will be painful

since the child has been

trained not to understand

the normal course of relationships

As the child grows older

there will no longer be attempts

to start or rekindle relationships

Deaths will be unimportant

Tears will never flow

The trainer won't be mourned

except in darkness

when the child is alone

always alone

The loner's children

if there are any

will figure out what happened

late in life

as loneliness training

is quite possibly genetic

This is the success

all loneliness trainers

expect to achieve

Barry G. Wick

Aquarelle

Frosting on an angel cake

Orange as I remember it

that comes to me

with the simple flashes

of her complete kitchen

I don't know how many

she made over the years

two or three I seem to recall

birthdays mostly

as they were

special creations

No boxed cakes for her

always crack the eggs

to separate the yokes

for a later zabaglione

so thick to spoon

with a light flavor

of Marsala

certainly yellow

They could be painted

together beside my

Mother's hand

on translucent paper

as if clouds pass

between her in heaven

and a tall fluffy cake

with the lightest odor

of an orange orchard

beside a gallon

of eggs whipped

with fresh air

in a wine infused dream

Barry G. Wick

Remembrance--Memorial Day

Our young friends left us

suddenly and without fanfares,

ordered to carry

the weapons of war,

right or wrong,

into the greatest challenge

of their lives.

Now that our years

made the gray streaks

larger than we'd like,

their closest friends

on the same wasted ground

disappear into the darkness

of memory and forgiveness.

Behold our flags:

both friend and foe.

We fill the earth

with our bodies

as we tried to leave

a better world for all

in the midst of mayhem.

Charge the children

to march the same paths

in peace and friendship.

These simple requests

we silently make

as the stormy dust of ages

removes our names.

Barry G. Wick

Looking for a Signal

My father in his youth went

to the 1939 World's Fair

in New York City New York

Maybe he saw television

neatly demonstrated there

Due to the expense

I cannot order cable television

so watching moving video

is available to me at large

from the cable on the Internet

The Queen waves on British news

rocket launches and eagle babies

all sorts of crazy people

violent crashes and awful gore

with or without a rowdy cat or dog

What I want to watch is this

sponsored television with soap ads

because I've begun to feel

I'm being kept from it all

until I click a link for spam

Put your name right here dear sir

we'll follow you anywhere

We're certain you won't mind

if we send you email ads

five times a day forever

I shudder to think its real

my Internet profile is likely fat

International computers in Utah

have everything in ones and zeroes

except the wrinkles, chafes, and tears

I'd fight back but it's no use

The corporations have the right

to watch this old bearded man

in my morning bubble bath

fart to sink the floating ducks

Barry G. Wick