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Sample Poems by Norman Minnick

Easter; Or, When Lilacs Last In The Pee-Stream Bloom'd

Sitting outside in the warm sun drinking beer,
reading poetry, not thinking about Jesus. I am
alone and happy. The in-laws are inside discussing
their ailments. They think I will eventually come in
to pee, but there is a blooming lilac bush
that looks just fine to me.


If you dedicated your life to a forest,
no one would blame you.

And it wouldn't be your fault
if you became lost.

It would be admirable to enter that forest.

There are folds of darkness
that only the blind man accepts.

It would be okay to take him as your guide.

Be ready!
On the other side is a view like no other.

The blind man may describe it to you.

I lift the rock to discover
tiny creatures with thousands
of legs scrambling for a darker,
cooler soil and the rusty
spare key that I pray
still works.

Each In Its Ordered Place

A boy not yet a teenager
cherry bombs baseballs
into a chain link fence.
He has no way of knowing
that in eight years he'll be loading
an assault rifle in a bunker
7,000 miles from home, that he'll
return home in one piece
unlike others from his squad
whom he grew to love like family.
He has no way of knowing
because that part of the poem
has not been written;
no way of knowing
that what he needs will have been
with him the entire time
deep in his chest cavity
where I shall place the heart.


Reading Martial's epigrams.
Why can't today's poets be so honest?
Honest Martial, I shall heretofore call him.
I promise these lines are not in jest.

Honest Martial, I now call him.
But, what proper person, asks Byron,
can be partial to all those nauseous epigrams?
Proper? Pah! My enterprise has just begun.