Poems

by paul johan Stokstad

In the Museum of Touch

In the Museum of Touch

In the museum of touchThe fingers of the blindFloat like butterfliesAround works of art Something like thatAs we lieSide by sideAfter a long winterMeditation My hand restsIn wonderOn the miracleOf your hipAnd it’s slopeTo your side Then, gently,Like a benediction,Your...

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Dirge for Ukraine

Dirge for Ukraine

(Officium Defunctorum) Yes I was once Mother Russiabut that is now a faint echo Once there was hopea communion of sortsto rewrite the czars as equals Only to end up, a century latersitting in the office of the deadwith these dry and dustyplastic plants. Now we are...

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Four years of poems

Four years of poems

Does she know? But does the beautiful girlreally know theexceptional lightthat shines through her and does that divine shapebring her the tasteof pure silence as it does for usas it stops and holdsour breathing? The cup is where it usually is The cup is where it...

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No poem

No poem

I don't have any new poems today so I thought I'd build one using words. This sort of thing has been done before with grandeur, planning, and scope. Other times in silence, modest and spare. Here is yet another poem glowing in the favored light of the eternal now.

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More words yet to emerge