Alfred Starr
Hamilton
from Poetry Now. Volume III. Numbers
3-6 (Issues 15-18), 1976
Our Flag
who is
going to sew the stars
who is going to
sew the stripes
who is going to
sew the buttons on the borders
who is going to
sew this crescent in the midst of our flag
who is the old
woman who lives in a shoe
with so many
progeny she doesn't know what to do
who is going to ty
our shoelaces
who is going to ty
our bowtys
whos is working
day and night at a Salvation center
who is going to
show us the road to salvation
who is going to
show us the road to the steeples
who is going to
show us the road to the market
who is going to
count the cobblestones
who is going to
show us the road to the cobbler's
who is going to be
busier this evening
who is going to
sew more stars on our flag
The Pool
I never
played pool with all the rest
I was so
oftentimes off by myelf
I didn't know what
it was
I didn't know
where it was
It never left me
alone
It spoke to me
time and again
I stared at the
pond
I stared at the
beautiful face of mankind
And there it was
at the bottom of the poop,
One of the
clearest dreams I've ever witnessed,
A little crawfish
at the bottom of the pool,
A little crawfish
on top of a sandy beach,
I could have that
little thingamajig
I could hug that
little thingamajig to myself all of
the rest of my
lifelong
Wilkes Barre, Pa.
I know of
sunrise
I know of the sun
that also rises
I know of the red
iron pony
I know of the road
to the coal mines
I know of the red
iron pony and a four leaf clover
I know of a
darkling
I know of the
darkness
I know of our
darkest hours
I know of sundown
I know of the road
back
I know of green
pastures
I know of the red
iron pony that plays in the pastures all
daylong
Broom Factory
I know of
a stiff broom
I know of a swift
broom
I know of a stiff
breeze
I know of an
everyday broom
I know of a parlor
to have been swept
I know of Brooklyn
I know of the
facts of life
I know of a factor
I know of the dust
that is inches deeper than the pavements
I know of a broom
factory
Visitations
I knew of
the stockings that were hung by the chimney with
care
I knew of
visitations
I knew of a
stranger visitor
I knew of a pack
on one's back
I knew of a
workingman of another kind
I knew of a turkey
I knew of a
turnkey
I knew of a rifle
I knew of a bomb
I knew of a box of
bonbons
I knew of the
three little kittens who have lost their mittens
I knew of none
other Christmas tidings
I knew of a pink
polity mitten
War
war is a
platitude
war is an oean we
have fought over
war is a desert
but there is no
war
we are finding our
souls during a conflict of another kind
war is a nebber
nebber land
we have arived at
a void
we have declared
war
but nevertheless
where there is suffering and bleeding
and lives are lost
within the void