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2 Pieces by Halvard Johnson
Gennady Goes to School
Gennady is hungry
for knowledge. He has a thirst
that water will not quench.
His teacher, Madam Tchalikov,
comes from Gorokhov, somewhere
near the Polish border, and has never
known a moment's quiet in her life.
Gennady lives in Staro-Kievsky Street,
where horses thunder by. He has
a sister named Anna, and a dog named
Mischka. On a table near his bed
are an inkstand made of milky glass
and a pile of books and papers.
Gennady wants to write.
Gennady writes stories with titles
like "The Ill-Fated" or "The Abandoned."
His outlook is dour, and one wonders why.
His mother, before she died, certainly
loved him and looked after him with
a certain tendresse. His father,
though busy, was not unkind.
Gennady is encouraged in his efforts
by his teacher, Madame Tchalikov, who
lives here now, but once lived near
the Polish border. When he has
finished dressing, Madame Tchalikov
always makes it a point to tell him
to write it all down once at home.
Second Soul
Across the surface of the earth, massive images
arise, profoundly influenced by El Niño, blessed in its turn
by vagrant breezes from the Orient.
Not wanting to talk
to anyone, his biases spread out upon the tabletop, he shared his
secrets of success. The history of these bodies of water
spelled out on every page.
Cavatina: Love, you little shit,
Take us back again
To those first fresh days
When world and love were new.
Am I waking or dreaming? he queried, forgetting to mention a single
person one might at least take an interest in. Even the large
buck emerging from the forest to nibble at new-greened grass
hesitated to venture forth, got caught in the elevator
door, and then, much too late, turned back.
Halvard Johnson, who lives and writes in Baltimore,
has two collections of poems--Americans Playing
Slow-Pitch Softball at an Airbase Near Kunsan, South
Korea and Blonde Dying--that are seeking publishers.
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