November 2021
Author's Note: Hello, my Friends in the V-V Community. These poems are from a fledgling book-in-progress called Viper Brain. The composing of this book emerged in a rather surprising way. I happened to notice that many of the poems I'd written lately were very dark or very experimental, or both. Hence the birth of Viper Brain, a bit of a new avenue for me. I hope you like this new work. Thank you so much.
What the Moon Knows
The moon does not know
the nightmare that left you
barefoot and shivering,
wet with tears
you did not feel were yours.
Nor does the moon know
the embrace that erases that fear.
And the moon does not know
the texture of air thick with flowers,
cannot distinguish grieving air
from air of joy,
does not taste the breath
with which I color that air
black or white.
The sky bleaches the close air
before it fills the bones of the moon
and so the moon does not know
the bald yard quick with children,
the bald, clay yard
frozen and quick with laughter,
the brown and silent yard
over which bits of paper tumble,
the frozen yard where month old tinsel
flashes like a promise in darkness.
The moon only knows a deep shadow
and a small stone floating there,
the turning of light,
the darkness between each page.
Beginning With the Final Scene
Awakened in the middle of the night by excitement,
planning the last scene
of a nearly finished two-person play,
focusing mostly on the lighting.
The stage is black.
Dim lights shine
from inside a house on stage.
One by one the lights go out.
Downstairs right first.
Then downstairs left,
then the single upstairs light,
and the last light to go out
is a special that shines down on
the figure of a man
huddled in a ball on stage;
the man is left in darkness.
How disappointing to wake
in the middle of the night
putting the final touches
on the last scene
of a nearly completed play,
only to realize, half asleep,
that it was all dream,
that there is no play,
and that in the morning
there would only be
the last scene,
and that I’d have to begin at the end,
using only that bit of the dream
as my guide,
and find my way back to the beginning
of something which hasn’t happened yet.
©2021 John L. Stanizzi
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell her or him. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL