Peter Chapman Poetry

sad

will you be sad with me
oh will you be?

will you be sad down south
in the bougainville

sad in the saddle, yippee-i-kaiee
bite your tongue, watch your mouth

laugh a little east of south
shine the flowers, rise the sea

let our bliss be agony

~

notes:

sadness proves joy.
exquisite is sad, joy's
anagram. you are never
so pure as shuddering with
sad, wet with tears in vita.

feel a lime green corduroy
sofa circa 1949 near a
window with blinds half
closed to afternoon sun,
lovers kissing in old-
fashioned underwear. a
faded grape rug of furze.

in a room, same time, of peeling linoleum and browned
screens, the artist tunes the radio to the edge of the
rain,

so neither is loud.