The Poetry of
Jack Scott

Poems Vol.1: One page and longer

Entropy

A young stone, one of many children of an old boulder, spawn of older mountain, now down upon its knees-

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I, Mobius

Ms. does not know she holds time on a leash.

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Addictions

Givens: things you can’t subtract -and those you won’t.

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Birth

Nests are not thrown together, but carefully assembled ,

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Godfather Frog

The Lake of the Lost Fisherman lies in a long, long valley, not unlike a nine-pin alley

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One Black Swan

Despite the testimony of my senses theory rules the stage and disciplines imagination. How should it feel to confront impossibility?

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Note or Notes on The Wasteland

  A large tree fell in the forest. No one was there to hear it fall.

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I, Rat

We have condemned a million fleets, skippered, to the dark,

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David Maulsby

You left without goodbye. I miss you

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On the Making of Karma

I was a soldier, but no longer I’ve paid the soldier’s dues.

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Charles Potts

We were catapulted into some kind of sky

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The Spider Artist

Master muralist, almost up but tiring on the concave underside of ornate ancient dome,

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The Sculptor

Terra cotta, born of man and fire, endures as long as shrine

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Spider

Long legged orb, lurking hungrily upon her net of latticed air

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Compost

Lives fall like leaves to compost

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Pretty Boy’s Baby

One Saturday we went to the Gunpowder River between Pretty Boy Dam and the Chesapeake Bay.

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Jesus Girl

In my far youth it never crossed my roving mind

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Satan Was a Methodist

Satan was a Methodist when I was child six days a week and Jesus’ on Sundays.

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Waterclock

Razor gears of waterclock, trim drops from dripping time

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Road

The road itself was night dark as space, studded here and there with random light

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Café

The light is bad today bad for me, too bright, too thin and sickly; here is Maine again.

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Mushrooms

Mushroom menagerie, peaceable kingdom of the toxic and the tasty

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Lake of the Lost Fisherman

Why did I come here? Because of the name.

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The Road Out of Here

The road out of here, pitted with mirages, writhes and shimmers snakelike

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Today is Cool for July

Today is cool for July, a harbinger of fall?

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Simpler Minded Men

Simpler minded men find consolation in simpler minded women than you.

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To Wake Before, Beside You

To wake before, beside you in the early hours between the first song of our morning bird

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As the Tide Rushed In

“I’m going to leave you,” you said. I heard you, I said.

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The Betrayal of Pandora

The time has come and gone for my evolution into humanity

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Your Face

I see your face as if it were behind my eyes

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A New Lecture

Nobody said it wouldn’t hurt. Nobody said it would hurt so much.

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The Longest Night

The longest night in my darkest life was three months long

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This is Something Different

This is something different. I sit, but do not wait.

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Cave

Cavern undesignated on the map, virgin to each visitor brave enough

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The History of Feet

The tide of paving, poured or pounded, cast and set upon the land

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An Expensive Date

You’re an expensive date high in your gilded tower.

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Pro Bono Consultation

Some say that orphans never cry because no one will heed them.

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The Alien Fleet of Feet

On a sluggish morning sluggish feet on sidewalks cannot compete with joggers,

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Dawn’s Lids are Sealed

No light presages day. Sea and sky are pressed together,

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I Sleep Through Spring Sometimes

I sleep through spring sometimes prolonging hibernation,

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Mute, You Silence Me.

Mute, you silence me. Bright, you darken me.

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Love’s Whipping Boy

Hellos are kinder than goodbyes, although goodbyes are in them.

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They the People?

There is room in recalcitrance, for trepidation to seat committees casting leaden ballots and voting shooting war.

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Birds in Morning Mazatlán

Colors set in silence, gems of sound struck by master jeweler in crystal air is birdsong.

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Paper Airplanes

She writes with carbide pen upon her side of mirror,

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For You

This is a poem. It is for you.

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Forgive Me, This Is Not A Poem

I don’t remember ever hearing of death by marijuana. There are lots of deaths by cigarette, but there are laws to keep smokers from killing others with “second hand smoke”. Heroin, alcohol, cocaine, opium and all the other poisons are, in their extremity, just other forms of self-destruction which, by definition, do not doom or damage others except through...

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