ReesArt.Com Poetry by Richard Rees
Richard Rees



My Plain Dealer bag
grows light
Morning papers lie
against front doors
I walk over to the lake

Swans circle
Through balcony shadows
Up a hill
my tennis shoes stand
in wet grass

Into the sunrise
Orion stalks blind


I glance out a window
and see the hunter

His sword drifts up
over a rooftop
White clouds
follow his face


Little League

Superman shakes hands with President Kennedy
in a comic book at the library
I read Willy Ley's Rockets and Missiles and Men in Space
in one afternoon
When I return it
the librarian doesn't believe me

In Little League the ones who are no good
get put in the outfield
My team the Hawks are third from last place
Our jerseys are purple and black
My best hit is a triple during practice

In my last game
the coach lets me play second
instead of right field
Before the inning is over
the umpire kicks me out
for wearing my school shoes


Buddha Beside the Clothes Line

Sun wanders
A helium disc
through an epic sky

A fat man
smiles for years
bathing like a bubble