A Poem by Clinton Van Inman

I hear they have placed
A pretty blue plaque
High above your flat
So that tourists can find you
And say that this is the spot
Where you killed yourself.

Lucky girl, you modern Sappho
To take the quantum leap
Like a comet to take your place
Among the darkest regions of empty space
With a brilliance that few can keep
And even less the mind to know
Where no dull planet can perturb you
As fallen flowers have no faces.


A Poem by Clinton Van Inman

It was no accident my coming here
For they must had known long before
I wandered to their farmhouse near
That soon I’’d knock upon their door
And wait until the storm would clear.

Call it more than a good neighbor’s sense
In snow to leave a porch lamp lighted
Or post the sign upon the picket fence
For those in need are all invited
Fate could find no better coincidence.

Plato’s Cave

A Poem by Clinton Van Inman

Of course the rooms are filled with shadows
While lazar lights and computers have proven
More cost effective than fires yet cardboard
Cut-outs and the curtains have remained the same
As well as those old lies that trees are real,
That the way out really goes somewhere,
That math leads more than circles,
And that the Wizard himself is behind the curtains
Keeping the whole domino world from collapsing.
Yet only a few of them mostly poets dare climb
The arduous way out as most prefer
To sit and talk about food or sports
And have learned to love the rope
And accept some back door reality.