The Impossible Shapes : Media Galleries: Writings

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Some Tour Poems by Chris Barth:

"Beltane, 2004"
Today seems like a good day to play the fool
to eschew everything I thought I knew
in favor of that innocent feeling
to forget who I was and where I have been
to be green like spring and sing
a brand new song.

sun bathes in
cloud bath.
new moon moves before
night falls.
we feel so full
of energy and anger
all these thoughts
switch us off as
clouds kiss the sun
deep under our skin.

 

"Mcdoel Gardens"
stoned again in the Garden of Eden
we were moved here by moon children,
we were given this grace.
grappling for holds, we were gaping
and the grapes were plentiful.

now, again in the hidden city center
where more lights,
more music and sick children
come together underneath a new sky.
blue city streets meet blue hills,
new homes are being built.
the future looks like a gaping hole,
a holographic memory of humanity.

making contact with a cold stone
I still believe in the old stories.
I hold them up before the light
like the dead friends they are.
somehow the light parade becomes
a dance of shadow on my porch.

our back door slams itself everytime
we let it go, slowly at first
then with a final rush it sounds
striking into the silence around us.
a pile of railroad spike remains
lays beside the cold gray stone
that maybe came from old Hoadly
Stone Company Mill A, an old site,
I ride by each day on my bike.

perhaps now I am sitting in an old
photo, faint and fading
on the new walls
of the county museum
sometime in the future.

 

"Indiana Dunes"
Gulls wash their feet in the waters of Lake Michigan
Chewing dead trout on the beach.
The dunes are moving inland
Rising high like the hills of my home
A forest floor of fallen oak leaves
Before the brightest red berry bushes.

We climb one dune, pushing through the fine sand.
From up high we see Chicago and several
Spewing smokestacks across the lake.
We wonder what will happen, the world
Now under the heavy rule of the religious right
Still, so many fresh ideas will find a way through
This whole lake waves just as we walk on
Singing songs and sharing each new day.

 

Some Haiku by Chris Barth:

many strange nights
lost loves
some good fruit

cicadas make waves
of sound, in and out they breathe
with the waterfall

a day of driving.
all day spent on the highway,
maze of human minds.

rapid flapping of
black hawk wings, much louder than
the passing airplane