Four Poems by
James Ryan Morris
She Said
there is a time
for us, & a place
for that—the
poem.
such conflict, between
the lady & the poem
that separation is
today, we look one
at the other, both
aware that in
the final love
there is no allowance
for tomorrow
The Hope
softly, woman
softly,
your voice
my hand,
Our collaboration
of detail—
the way it is.
Quiet & softly
on the ledge
of night.
Face To Face
In the cellar
I come
face to face
with a rat, brown
cornered
like myself...
if I move he moves,
and all I want is my stash
& to get
back upstairs
to my ol lady.
Just which one
of us
knows
the rules
of survival & need
best?
The Relief
Living with the
poem
is very, very difficult.
It can’t cook, make a bed
or yield bread...
it does nothing for me.
But wait: my immense lies
are stabilized, & to be
relieved of that self
is accomplishment
outside of poetry.
These poems
previously appeared in the
Free Venice Beachhead, April 2008, 9.
James Ryan
Morris
Poet James Ryan Morris was
born April 9, 1935 in New York City; his parents
immigrated from Ireland. Morris died at age 43, November
25, 1978 at his Coal Creek Canyon, Colorado home.
Morris grew up on the west
side of New York City. He quit school when he was 16 and
traveled to Ireland where he decided he wanted to be a
writer.
He completed his high
school education through an equivalency program in the
Marine Corps; he was discharged in 1954.
Morris was a member of the
Beat Generation's inner circle at its height in the 1950s
and the 1960s. He was active on the West Coast, Venice,
Seattle and Denver. In Denver he jump-started the moribund
poetry scene, held readings, opened a book store, an art
gallery, published Mile High Underground, Croupier Press
and eight volumes of his own work.
Morris was published in
more than 700 small press publications, and in more than
two dozen volumes of poetry. Some of his books are
The Hands, She Said, He Has Heard, Diana's Smile
and 13 Sounds.
