Diana Der-Hovanessian


Open Poem

death lies beside each sleeper
that day wakes up
stalks every step
puts down the heel
that pace picks up again
and exhales every breath
except where love breathes in


On a Line by Brian Phillips

“We are the generation
that neglected Geoffrey Hill.”
We are those who venerated
the venal and mentally ill.
We liberated the libido
and individual will. We walked
the moon, and talked up the vox
populi. We sanitized the sexual and
sensationalized the pill.
We garnered blurbs, cooked
with herbs, left the ’burbs. And left
our analysts. We channel surfed,
had T section births and elevated
the obscure and effete. We killed
chlorophyll, Near East good will
and neglected poor Geoffrey Hill.


The Blue Louisiana Heron Dream

A blue heron
is bending in the rain
fishing for summer
in the river.
A boy walks
with pail and pole
across this dream
toward his own
drowning.
I will wake
in a little while
old and in the north.
A blue heron
will be bending outside
in the snow.


Lear’s Prayer As The Poet’s Prayer

“Let me not be mad, not be mad, sweet heaven.”
Is that too much to want?
Let me see the right lane, left lane,
red light, the way the traffic man decides.
Let me walk the straight pat, rose walk,
garden chalk and not up the wall.
Let me talk tall, knock soft and not fall.
Let me deduce, induce, reduce
and not be seduced by light.
Let the left ear, right eye, middle nose
feel the difference between dull and spice.
Let the world be mad, be mad, sweet heaven,
and let me think I understand the why.
Let me not be mad, not be mad, sweet heaven,
except by design

-all poems previously published at Other Voices Poetry