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Poems By Poet Warren Falcon  10/24/2014 10:21:39 AM
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  WARREN FALCON (04/23/52 - xxxx)
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Of Bells Anatomy

of bells
anatomy there
is much to

of the
zinc, copper,
tin, & more
while not for-
getting brass
more commonly

of infusion
into cuppolas

the beating
the shaping
heat also to
be given account
amounts much into
bells conformed
gracefully out
in the end

but only
as metal,
sharp tongues
blunted can of
bells then speak

tonally only

overtones inviolate

in violent swings
side to side the
hard knock shocks
into, quakes into
belfry beyond
dance of iron
bronze overtaking
annunciant round
of hammers

so many dawns

times so many

goings down of

the sun

O lover

of thee

I adore

in timbre

thru the

window rings

the arms too

cling wring


breath to


outreach this

to introduce some

for we (loves)
were many day-ed

times merry

we merrily played

harming no one,

the god you insisted

be excluded from

all our nakedness

many breaths

exchanged, groped

times the many


all our


hands emptier
sensitive finger-
tips filligreed
prints your
body hairs
sifted imprinted
touching softly

no matter
the black or
blue tide

of thee
O lover

slips out
ebbs black
back into lapis

lapses into what
self is (a bell
shaped fiercely

scored trans-
parent upon

faces which are
eyes which now
glaze with love/

a multitude
of petals


the jasmine
at last

at last/least
O return
soft Junes
the lips curved
out to ring
sing of
which are
pink, of

as if to kiss

the antinomies

a string

of pearls


& thee

bring all them

back, so many,

to me now

their vespers

once was laughter

seeking out
between bodies

valleys eternally

shifting eluding

of sentinel
bells against
each of each

the clappers
their constraining
rounds in too too
secure now rafters
Warren Falcon



of humans the stains they leave

Angels without knees
aprons spotless starched
as beards of saints
complain of humans
the stains they leave

between the fork
and spoon obscenely
one angel to another:

They call it love
what we are supposed
sublimely to sing of
but frankly all that
pushing and shoving
faces in agony the
cries and curses all
that pulling at flesh
bruised as the moon
this can't be love

We stand without legs
the better for it but
for these we must attend
bent over their plates
greedy to have at each
other again to marriage
beds one last time

And then the singing

an eternity

songs about dirt
about longing to return

how all hurts there
mean something
after all
Warren Falcon



Of Hungry Pockets

For Frederique

Nothing to lose, this rag of selves.

With what glory remains of hungry pockets

I skip forward singing, La La La, a willful

don, a lord of nothing-much, poems a'pocket
Warren Falcon



Older Age, Basho In Mind

for Nimal

Road gets narrower

eyesight dims,

even signs wave

Basho's ghost

guides with ink,


Can't ever cross

Rainbow Bridge

Beneath it, though,

a billet of mist
Warren Falcon
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Poems By Poet Warren Falcon