Weeds and Sagebrush

I walked            the country side

   of my home town.

Bringing back

                        rich but dried

        landscapes toward my seeing, and touching.

                              And thought

how there is something powerful

     about the unchangeable          the unedited

of fields, ponds and landmarks,

    and even

                             the winds that had never left,

                      not really;

except for the passing         of young and old friends:

        their expressed faces and words

                                   plowed away to memory.

Society Needs a New Editor

There are genuine monsters among us,
you know.  And barbarians are scaling
our walls of graffiti.  Credit cards eating
our blue plate specials, making us pay
in transparent slavery until death do us
part.  Streets and rain have their own
gravity of man-made and natural causes;
as your friends descend forever by avenues.
Poured concrete like lava is slowly transforming
us into more flat-footed urbanites.  Our nondiets
really make us fat faster than a bowling ball.
It's a kind of madness, uncontrollable like a
merry-go-round gone amok.  And buildings
get taller as if being in a redwood, glass forest.
And there are six point four billion of us.
Soon, we shall out number the stars.

Stanley M. Noah has a degree from the Univ. of Texas at Dallas and is a member of The Academy of American Poets. He has published poems in the following: "Poesy," "Poetry Depth Quarterly," "Old Red Kimono" and other small presses. Been writing for four years.

Email: Stanley M. Noah

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