By Tom Clark
Then it was always
for now, later
for later.
And then years of now
passed, and it grew later
and later. Trapped
in the shrinking
chocolate box
the confused sardine
was unhappy. It
leapt, and banged its head
again. And afterward
they said shall we
repeat the experiment.
And it said
later for that.
Source: Poetry (December 2014)
Poet Bio
.jpg)
Tom Clark was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1941. He received his bachelor’s degree from the University of Michigan and won a Fulbright fellowship to earn his master’s degree at Cambridge University.He has worked as a poetry editor, writer and instructor in both America and England. Clark is also a respected writer in other genres of literature including biography, literary criticism and essays, novels and drama.
More Poems about Living
Vagrants and Loiterers
You got that clean waistcoat,
the bright white of a well-tailored
shirt, you got those loose-as-sacks
slacks and some spit-polished shoes,
and you know, whether you are looking
like money, or about to take a stroll,
to tilt that hat like you own
the world; yeah, smoke...
What Women Are Made Of
We are all ventricle, spine, lung, larynx, and gut.
Clavicle and nape, what lies forked in an open palm;
we are follicle and temple. We are ankle, arch,
sole. Pore and rib, pelvis and root
and tongue. We are wishbone and gland and molar
and...