MARCH POETS

Prime Time Guy

By

Fiona Pearse

From the side of his mouth

Comes a cartoon slipstream

Animated history

With moronic overtones

But to those who have noticed

The prime time guy

With the square-jawed Hi

Has a serious soul

It’s the distances that bother him

Standing in the middle

Of American Pie

Playing a mirror’s role

Pulling in the corners

Showing each the other’s

Prejudice colors

Like flags, home grown

Oh, he is celebrated

For his comic timing

But the air is polarizing

Outside the T.V. zone

And disparity is deepening

As he seeks reaction

To subversive attractions

Once the anchor man goes home

Sifting For Gold

By

Fiona Pearse

I’m circling this black box

Whose shape is still unknown

Adding in, taking out

I’m looking for the face

To fill the sculptors square

I know it’s in there hiding

But there is nowhere to hide

I chip away to reach it

Within the lions layer

Pacing patiently

And when it pounces

I shall say eureka

Because the piece will fit

The puzzle will be solved

And I can rest at last

But until then I sift the shale

And wait to see gold

On my large white writing pad