November 20-26, 2000: David Louis Maini and Roy Frisvold

Wine Heavy oak table over-full ashtray sad music drenches my thoughts Blue black light drowning in smoke so many memories too many thoughts empty bottle wails stained blood red glass Vacant heads utter noise ancient and dank ghastly shadows converse We never talk deny the self We never talk Summer Night Red black sun entombed in the wasted desert Dark gold earth pale blue moon reign over the Neon landscape Father across Mother sleeps Storm of a thousand evenings rage windsong of desperate heat blows I dream a secret dream Morning keeps a watchful eye I dream a secret dream . Bloodied Nose ’72 Schoolboy stands against brick wall Waiting to be picked,waiting,nervous,waiting At last he is called! Second to last he is called Shy Schoolboy takes the field Visions of Glory fill his eyes At last! To belong! Angry ball cuts into the frightened sky Terror replaces all other emotion With Human Viciousness The ball strikes home Blood flows,tears swell,dreams are shattered Game over for a lonely Schoolboy.

Roy Frisvold
royfris@mindspring.com

Bio (auto)

Roy Frisvold lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico He has self-published two chapbooks of poetry, “Squirms in Radiance” and “Wyvern,” and will soon publish a third, “Video Creek Road “

The following work is Copyright © 2000, and owned by Roy Frisvold and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

Raven, At a Railing in Utah Shivered up from Halloween winds and fins and hoodoos of a canyon, he landed, then was stoic to meet me I watched his wings tuft as he held a pink brick pylon and completely absorbed his own shadow He stood with more “stood” than the anchored rails, his right eye obsidian, his bill the black onyx stylus given by Thoth A scrip- bag of feathers at his throat held the gaw, gawd sound in a break in hail– all gaws his witness of erosion as home The camera sifted through my hands, dusting new hailstones with black facets.