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  December 2007
volume 5 number 3
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  featured poets
  Jerry Garcia
  Eloise Klein Healy
  Robert Maiolo
  Richard Modiano
  Lisa Marie Sandoval
  mailing list
Jerry Garcia December 2007



    Jerry Garcia is a poet, photographer and filmmaker from Los Angeles, California who is too old to have been named after The Grateful Dead guitar hero. He has been a producer and editor of television commercials, documentaries and motion picture previews. His poetry has been seen in Wide Awake: Poets of Los Angeles and Beyond, Chaparral, The Chiron Review, Askew, Palabra, Coiled Serpent Anthology and his chapbook Hitchhiking with the Guilty.



War Without My Heroes

Wake up, Diane Arbus,
the world needs your photographs
                those amputee soldiers,
                beheaded corpses,
                anguished mothers.

Margaret Bourke-White,
we need your pictures too.
                GI’s pass out candy bars
                against a backdrop of torn burqas
                and shattered mosques.

No one can “See It Now,” Edward R. Murrow,
No one sees truth.
                Our daily news
                Is a show of pixels,
                discreet elements scattered
                into our living rooms
                to paint reaction.

Sylvia Plath, please
take another breath,
                write our world’s metaphor
                we suffocate from gases
                of global depression.

William Butler Yeats,
the time has come,
                your falcon singes his wings
                in flaming atmospheres.

                Prophets, poets,
                truth tellers of our time, our time!
                Unheard and vexed
                voices hidden.
Even your belief in love
is stifled, John Lennon

                              All you need!

copyright 2007 Jerry Garcia



The Christmas Allergy

Somebody always cleans
and dust falls like snow
on a green shag carpet.
Siblings squabble over
breakfast cereal and broken toys,
the furnace is too hot
and Bing Crosby croons snowfalls
while the house grows smaller.

Pine trees and tangerines
scent desert air,
sniffles and coughs recurring
in the hot breath of a five and dime
full of cheap wrap and ribbon.
Syrupy chain-store cider chokes
like a pill too big to swallow.

Holiday singers harmonizing with sirens,
as your starter motor strips
and your clutch burns into traffic
when a decrepit Santa
jumps off the curb
to clean your windshield.

In the mid-December,
season of joy,
our city fills
with angry commuters
all honking at you.

copyright 2007 Jerry Garcia