What Remains

The sleeping mind arises.
It reconstructs pictures into meaning.
Flashing lines appear from the dark.
I learned subtraction until I was full.
Leaving the movie I drive off
Into the screen where all
The clowns died laughing,
And so we go to
The funeral of pregnant pauses.
At this juncture I’ve forgotten
More than I ever knew.
Stepping through the theatre crowd
Carrying the last plastic flowers
The vendor had we shiver
Before the machinery now cold
Under starlight.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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