Presents

Here is new draft poem #2. Again, please offer feedback.

Presents
by Paul Warloski

The easy presents come
under tables
freshened by estuaries

only heard in hums. Easy
deaths limp past coping nerves
now pacified. Your

telephone can lose
dads, and presents can
contaminate suns.

Brothers now vivid and violent.
Now there is nothing but
vibrating air in time to irritate

the deities that pass judgement
on easy moments that lay
down in arenas of comment.

Put quarters in your library
with a fragrant delicious. Why
then be hasty? Silly

trends create disrespect. And
the hum is probably only the sound
of bees and escalators.

copyright 2009 by Paul Warloski