Kendall says these "moon" poems were written from his father's bedroom window on Mechanic Street.
CLEAR, CLEAR MOON
For Lauryn Hottinger
Now clear as a silver dollar
I have your music on
Will it last as long as this poem?
It cannot match your beauty
Or smoothness of voice
The tingle of the guitar
Why has God given us such beauty
When we don’t deserve it
Both your beauty
The moon’s beauty
That silent one
Is only caught by one giant maple
Soon will be able to fly
Unrestricted by anything
Earth can cast out trying to grasp
This Holy Orb
What sin we committed there
Walking these
Voicing irrelevant words
Think of the healing that could have been done
With the monies
Just to beat out various red enemies
Life is funny
As soon as you see a beautiful woman
She disappears
As this moon will do
In short order
The sky will be dark
Except for tiny stars and planets
I hope you never fade away
That you will be singing
And posing for the camera
Just remember you are an immortal Goddess
On Stephen’s Mount Olympus
That you, through and beauty
Have I used that word too many times
In your poem, your loveliness
Is anyone else
Looking into your life
Around the moon
Will you make everyone
See the charm of earth
As you light it up
In a shining path
Kendall Merriam, Home, April 25, 2013 10:25 PM
Listening to LaurynHottinger “A New Kind of Breathing”
And Jr. Walker and the Allstars “Greatest Hits”
WILD HORSES’ MOON
I saw your moon
All the way back to Rockland
Orange now silver
As I look out my window
Your speech about horses
Was the best I have heard
On any subject
Sea Biscuit Indeed!
Breaker of hearts
Are you sure you are not a horse yourself?
I try to be when I can
Invariably eating oats for breakfast
Dressing to the music of the Gypsy Kings
Worried about four year olds
Being slaughtered
And sent to Canada for food
I will send you other poems
About horses
That I know about
I sat on a horse for five minutes
When I was in the eighth grade
And never chose to do so again
Even though I’ve had the opportunity
Polish cavalry troopers
Shot their mounts
So the Germans wouldn’t have them
To haul gun carriages, ammunition
There is an ad on television
By the BSF railroad company
That gives glimpse
Of a herd of wild horses
Racing beside the train
It is so good that now
Pickup trucks and vans
Have taken the drudgery
Of the carters
I wonder how many horses are watching this moon
In Arabia, Mongolia or Iceland
Do they judge as we do
A symbol of beauty
Or the end of a heavy day
Filled with dogs and wolves
Thank you for consecrating my evening
With God’s most important creature
Kendall Merriam, Home, April 26, 2013 12:00 AM
Listening to “Beignets and Coffee” compiled by Rebecca
Hill
TELEVISION MOON
For Phyllis
The moon is orange
Almost half gone
I write this for my wife
She is from the 19th Century
Amazed by the little theatre
In the back living room
Even though we only have basic
It gives her many choices
She doesn’t have to dress
For drink and sustenance
She likes to see England
In her shows
Grand houses, grand murders
Interspersed with a glance
At her store, new ideas for shoes
She is far too polite
To watch the moon undressing
And never comments
About high tides, just low
She is not a musical person
Though she did play a recorder once
In the family band
Her family is all gone now
Sometimes I wonder
If she hopes to see her family
Perhaps they all have moved
To England
Working at the Royal Shakespeare
Under the guidance of the television moon
Kendall Merriam,
Home, April 29, 2013 12:02 AM
Listening to the “Best of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young”
ROMA MOON
For All Roma Across the Earth
I sit at my father’s tin accounting desk
And stare at the moon
Directly full above the Head of the Bay
Where it creates a path of silver light
I do not know if I have ever met
A Roma man, woman or child
But I love them nonetheless
For their persecuted freedom
For their sense of knowledge of the world
And their music and dance
Gina, you may think we are far too small
In this tiny, backwater city
To know much of life
But tonight
At the local Strand theater
we saw on HD
“Blood Wedding” and “Suite Flamenca”
We wanted it to go on and on
But finally could tell the dancers
Musicians and vocalists
Were exhausted
As we came out of the theater
There was a brilliant full moon
Which we had not seen developing
For it had been cloudy for weeks
I do not know what else to tell you
I hope you approve of my lancing
The boil of hatred
Of Levant and all the many
Enemies of the Roma
I do not know if I believe in God
So I do what I can on this old typewriter
like the one my wife bought more than twenty years ago
I have learned not to be afraid
And say anything I want to anyone
Who is trampling on the rights
And the very lives of others
Living on this endangered planet
Kendall Merriam, Home,
April 24, 2013 11:46 PM
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