Wednesday 5 May 2021

5 Poems by DeWitt Clinton



After Watching Cyclists Race Along the Lake Front, I Return

Home to Lie Down, and Nap with Chu Hsi’s “The Boats Are Afloat”

Last night two more men rise

To the surface of our Lake.

On Sunday afternoons, white sails

Dot the Lake’s far horizon.

In an inland lake, I swim just above

Weeds turning my head to sky, weeds, then sky.

Reading  “Spring Sun” by Chu Hsi on a Warm July Afternoon Near the Lake

After noshing on tuna with peas

We step out into our garden forest to check on

Our 30-foot-long pumpkin plant.

On these humid days

We’re grateful for breezes that may come our way.

Yesterday our Village almost floated

Away with more rain than ever

Before so we are all steaming.


On a Warm Summer Night I Stay Out in the Forest as Long

As I Can and Read Chu Hsi’s “The Farm by the Lake”

The only part of nature higher

Than us are the clouds

That float by each season.

We’ve seen almost

Every cloud in the book.

In our forest, we lean

Back in our lounge chairs

Cooling our lips with tea.

When we do have a

Full moon all our

Neighbors lean over our fence

And we forget, briefly, what woofs

Day and night behind our green crops.

We’ve said to each other how

Much we’d like to stay until

There’s nothing left of us.

There’s no place we’d really like

To visit more than this place.


After Reading the Morning’s News Near the Lake,

I Turn to Chu Hsi’s “Thoughts While Reading”

The 22-inch screen gleams back

At whom we are, reclined.

It’s a mirror of splendor

With dancers, murderers, chefs and “X-Files[1]”

All acting as special guests.

We’ve even learned how to save their future

In case we’re not here, now.

Summer storms often change our little stage to black.


[1] A once popular TV series that featured two F.B.I. agents who searched for paranormal activity and the possibility of an alien-human conspiracy, now in reruns.


Awake Before Anyone Walks Along the Lakefront

I Rise and Read “Morning” by Chu Shu Chen


Most of the time I’m up before

Even the birds know what’s up.

I barely recognize who’s who

With the ribs so prominent

Below the sinking face.

Water helps brings the body back

To where it was once

Before.  I shave the head, face

Then steam the old skin

I’m the first in our little kitchen

So I prepare food for loved ones.

I’m the first in our little kitchen
So I prepare food for loved ones.


Recent poems by DeWitt Clinton have appeared in Lowestoft Chronicle, The New Reader Review, The Bezine, The Poet by Day, Verse-Virtual, Poetry Hall, Muddy River Poetry Review, Across the Margin, Art + Literature Lab, One Magazine, Fudoki Magazine (England), and New Verse News.  He has two poetry collections from New Rivers Press, a recent collection of poems, At the End of the War, (Kelsay Books, 2018), and another is in production from Is A Rose Press, a collection of poetic adaptations of Kenneth Rexroth’s 100 Poems from the Chinese.

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