Events Poems by Carol Davis Koss & Dorothy Alexander
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Carol Koss
Chaos Theory #4: The Butterfly Effect
On the porch railing this August evening
one butterfly rests pensive and pale yellow
a breeze prods its wings into green parchment
fine penciled in sienna
rouses its wings into watered silk limned in sienna
wings veined as the stones by the stream's edge
the verge of a stream leading everywhere but here
Somewhere she still has the gown and one stone
in a trunk in an attic or loft - the barn perhaps
where she mounts the ladder warily because of bats
and does not hear the phone nor does she find the dress
or the stone - nor does she discern the butterfly
when she regains the porch, only August's dusty garment
shapeless in twilight as she conjures a dress of watered silk
pale yellows and pensive greens, stroked with sienna
invokes the stones on the hem of a stream to summon her home
October / 2002
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SPEAKING OF REALITY
by Dorothy
Alexander
Speaking of waking to rain,
of making love with the window open
Speaking of the lilacs your grandmother planted
the yellow dress with ruffles
the snake in the hen’s nest,
the nickels earned for gathering eggs
Speaking of reality
Speaking of the failure of leaders
of misadventure in Mesopotamia
of a phony cowboy and his phony cronies
who lie and lie and lie
for the sake of profits and power
while thousands more die
Speaking of reality
Speaking of audacity
of arrogance, of Texas Poker
the upholstered center of American political life
of not questioning the logic of prolonging the agony
or the possibility of nuclear annihilation
Speaking of reality
Speaking of rising heat
melting polar caps
polluted smoke pouring into the bright air
dirty water, dirty minds, dirty dirt
a poisoned planet speeding to its end
Speaking of reality
Speaking of sweet baby’s breath
and that soft place behind your lover’s ear
the smell of a yellow rose on an old vine
the sound of the crowd when your side scores
Speaking of the pride in your mother’s eyes
Speaking of reality
Speaking of immigrants dying in airless box cars
dying of thirst in the endless desert heat
soldiers who die without knowing why
Speaking of reality
Speaking of pieces of clouds dissolving into sunshine,
The spread of a swan’s wings
Hawks making great sky circles
A clear song born on the air of a cloudless day
Speaking of reality
Speaking of sunlight on a glass of wine
bare feet in warm sand
pages of poetry memorized
drum beats rising on the air
and even this:
the sound of taps over my son’s grave
So, speak to me of the sweetness of life
in the presence of death.
Speak to me of reality
but speak very, very slowly.
And say to me:
Amor Omnia Vincit -- love conquers all
Dorothy Alexander
Cheyenne, Oklahoma
August 2006
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