FROM A LINE BY REVERDY
By Franz Wright
To sit at a table with Jesus
and eat a piece of fish
after his death, I don't think I could
bear it. But today I am following
in the blue stained-glass footsteps of a doctor who works with doomed children,
of the old poet, the rays in my eyes
walking to Heaven
which is not far--
a little face turns to the window
and it is there.
The Testing-Tree
By Stanley Kunick
On my way home from school
up tribal Providence Hillwhere I could never hope to play
past the Academy ballpark
I scuffed in the drainage ditchhunting for perfect stones
among the sodden seethe of leaves
rolled out of glacial timethen sprinted lickety-
into my pitcher's hand;
split on my magic Kedsscarcely touching the ground
from a crouching start,
with my flying skin as I poured it onfor the prize of the mastery
over that stretch of road,when I flung myself down
with no one no where to deny
that on the given course
I was the world's fastest human.