Sassanna

Sassanna

Sassanna was painting the back porch,
in the early afternoon.
I opened the window, hot air flowed in.
Carried the smell of both soup
and nearby garbage.
Singing and pissing on a bluebricked wall,
lit by moonlight.

-Will Dockery

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"Sassanna" a poem by Will Dockery, published in the 1995 Poet's Market, page 248:

Book of the Dead

Book of the Dead

She's a dream scape baby
only memory.
She has such pretty feet
tripping acid so completely.
Soulful brown eyes dilated
she read the
Book of the Dead.

-Will Dockery / (5-8-1982)

Journey in the Past

Journey in the Past

Back in 1980, a long ago time
I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
Get off work at five
from Harvey Lumber and Supply
and be in Atlanta by nine.

The commute was billed as express
but was often a slow ride at best.
The bus stopped at each town
the driver's horn would loudly sound
the journey put my patience to the test.

Once settled in the ride was a breeze
my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
I'd dash out a poem
happy to be finally going
knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.

The bus rolled through little towns
with a screeching, roaring sound.
As the bus made the stop
on and off folks would hop
and soon we would again be northbound.

The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
I'd jump off for my short vacation.
With my suitcase I'd walk
up the long street I'd stalk
for the next leg of my destination.

Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
with correct change I could jump on.
Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
watching city lights flash through the dark
the sensation was like being stoned.

Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
I'd had a fine trip
now it was time to slip
Into some peace and quiet for a spell.

-Will Dockery (2020)