AL FERBER

................................................................................................

The Poetry Of...
Al Ferber............................................................

Road Warrier

I am the king of the deriders
and defilers
I ride through your cities
in boxcars
stop off to beg at your door
for change
to achieve enough intoxication
to deliver speeches
under railroad trestles
slumped against a wall
on street corners
seeking further donations
in my empty hat
dress in the layered look
for any eventual
change in season or climate -
wash up occasionally
for appearance sake in public
rest rooms
collect pockets full of paper
towels to use for place
settings on the sidewalk
for my sundry colleagues
and potential initiates
give instruction on the evils
of modern man
and the most effective technique
on how to drink cheap wine
with a short bottle neck from
a brown paper bag
without it dribbling down the chin

The Ghost Revisits More Convincingly

these days the fire's burning dim
the point of my javelin has dulled
my personality blunted
in the purgatory of uselessness
I am fallen through that time tunnel
returned to the origins of my sadness
I was three when it began
in essence - five when I began
to note the unhappiness of those
around me - all weighted by invisible
anchors - pulled by a gravity
more grave than the natural attraction
of things to the planet - brick footed
zombies roaming the streets the bars
the homes the stores the factories
bound by some unexplainable dogma
of obligation that requires
a relinquishing of heart and soul for
the propogation of the species
the whores on South Street at least
dressed as though there was
a party to go to - one where people
danced and made whatever merry
they pleased - a fine illusion - but
a dark one outlawed by convention -
birds are feed for each other other
and the stuff of unfortunate roadkill
in a world where learning is impossible
and joy is the victim of murder most often

Transmutation

I used to be a medium length
string bean of a boy then
a man in boy's body
for decades that was my story
no amount of working out
with heavy weights
dietary supplements
would change so from being so
until in my fifties
when I'd gone sober and my father
died the day I thought I buried him
his spirit went to wandering
but the rest of him
crawled beneath my skin
his face and belly popped out
of my own displacing them
now I bear both his countenance
and his pant size and since that day
have been a stranger to myself

For any of you who aren't aware of this, Al has published quite a number of books through Xlibris Publishing. Three of the most recent (and three I happen to own) can be found there at the following links:
Twelve Miles South of Nowhere
Unbearable Lyric
Beatitudes

the last is a highly unusual novel that I critique here. This is a body of work to take pride in~ good show, Al!

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