The Poems of David Garlick
You know, it doesn’t hurt much when you are dead. But then you do a lot of lying still. You know, you don’t fear much when you are dead. But perhaps there is no adventure left to thrill. You know, you do not hunger much when you are dead. But then you do not need […]
I am a fearless Fruit Fly. I fornicate for fun. I flit among the orchards trees. I frolic in the sun. And from my frequent fusings, with females that I find. Fruitfully I’ll fill my world with future frisky flies. David Garlick, Victoria, October, 1990
As Spring’s soft fingers caress my furrowed face. My thoughts warm to birds and bees, forgetting snow and ice. Soon seeds will stir, within my soil, bulb spears will greenly show. Then I will bask in mellow winds and smiling watch them grow. David Garlick, Victoria, May, 1991
To ski ‘s, like flying down a hill, white snow, the clouds beneath your feet. The skis are wings, that guide your flight, pulled down the hill by gravity. Control, instead of headlong dash is how we learn to stretch these wings. Then swooping as the eagle does, we swing and push to make a […]