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Poetry

A poem by Matt Bialer

ANTICHRIST

I tell my son get his spiritual house in order
Practice greens, driving range overlooking the Pacific
Every first Saturday     Dad, no religious rants
I don’t love her anymore    Is there someone else?
I can’t answer that     Slicing a lot   Ball not
Where he wants to put it  Light in my eyes   Son,
Need to reconcile with her and the Lord     While there’s
Still time   Dad, I’m not the only sinner here   In the office:
Poetry

POETRY by Matt Bialer

RECOGNITION

I read here in my breakfast room
How honeybees are trained to recognize human faces
Distinguish one from another   Configural processing,
Familiar patterns    Bowls of sugar water placed
In front of mug shots    I stroll the paths in my garden
Daylilies, coral bells, butterflowers   The bees
Secret color world of ultra violet light, pigment and markings
Landing strips to the nectaries   Now airports have
Recognition systems  -computer sizes up a face

Continue reading ~ POETRY by Matt Bialer