Grew a little branch from a tree

Grew a little branch from a tree
you was there and so was me

you me and the tree maked three
then comed our tiny bay-be


© Dan Goorevitch, 1993

The Library

She kneels
And the black pleats float.

She sits—
My heart a sinking boat.

She stands
And stretches—oh—the flirt!

Walks on
—tugging at the corner of her skirt!

Ramblin' Rose

Though
Ramblin' Rose
played twice

as dust
behind car
and sun

and sand's ribs
under lake
and bubbles rose

dragging up
my father's hair
a whitened body, it

seems
now that
all

the way
to the beach
that day

the rhapsody was
so
that

even now
it
goes:

"How I love you"
(so it goes)
"How I want you

"heaven knows—
"who can cling to
"a ramblin' rose?"


© Dan Goorevitch, 1988, 2007
Rambin' Rose © Noel & Joe Sherman, 1962