YS’: Poetry in the MainstreamWATERWAYS: Poetry in the Mainstream tert nett zWATERWAYS: Poetry in the Mainstream rf Vol. 3 No. 8 October, 1982 Co-Editors: Barbara Fisher & Richard Alan Spiegel PAGE a Adrienne Day 20 Morgan Phillips 5 Miguel Melendez © 21._—-Ken Rath 6 Liz Basch 22. John Waite 7 Jean Marie Findley 23 David Reichman 2 April Torruellas 24 Peter Rovit 9 Leslie Day 25 ‘hae! Sheinheit 10 Sukari Farrington 26 Alexi Stoltz 11 Gabrielle Lowe 27 Collin Spanier 12. Julia Jackson 28 Alex Valent 13. Alicia Bates 29 Jeff Jonson 14 As-Shareem Alalah 31-33 L V Hall 15. Vielka Elvy 35 Sparrow 16 Mare Gillespie 36-36 Margot deSilva 17, Jordan Dick 38-39 James Brennan 1 Jonathan Isaacs 40-42 Emma Landau 19 “Alexandra Krispel 4-51 Marion Cohen Single issues $2; Subscriptions $15 for 11 issues Waterways Project, 799 Greenwich Street, NY NY 10014 | © 1982, Ten Penny Players, Inc. || i \ i \ i | Jean Marie FindleyTHE THING Adrienne Day What's that? Over there by the windowsill It's very big, no it's small, maybe It has no size at all It is in the shape of a blob, with no Full means of support Creeping slowly around the room Making not a sound, a sound, a sound Creeping around in the dead of night How would it look by candlelight?HALLOWEEN DRUMS Miguel Melendez Drums play a sad melody, One I do not understand, Could it be the march of death? Or the tune of some demand? Is the tune meant for someone, Who left on Halloween night, And made the witches suffer, By taking their brooms from flight. What price can be put on heads, Of mortals who have no fears, Of witches and goblins none, Of Halloween fate, blood tears. So a word of warning friends, Take great concern in your lives, Watch yourself on Halloween, For drummers sticks are like knives.OCTOBER 31st Liz Basch From All Hallow's Eve to Halloween, From Saturn, celtic god of the dead, To laughing children demanding to be fed, All on the same night of the year October 31st. Animals that once were people prow! As the legends say; Children dress up in costumes To go trick or treat. Old and new come together On this single night.THREE LITTLE PUMPKINS Jean Marie Findley There were three pumpkins sitting on a gate One jumped off and another said wait The third said,"'Stop!" until it's Halloween And we'll go off and have a big scream!' There's something grinning on the porch outside 1 don't know why, but | think I'll hideMONSTER April Torruellas The Monster's name is King Kong. He lives in New York. He is a Big Bad Monster. And he hates Social StudiesUNTITLED Leslie Day The moon is like a pearl, The sky is cloudless but no stars appear. There is laughter on the dark side of the moon The night air is still and misty. Footsteps in the night. Nightcrys. As'l open the door A-rush of cold, icy wind stings my face. I gasp. There is one cloud in the sky. It covers the moon, It is pitch black. I hear laughter on the dark side of the moon.HALLOWEEN NIGHT IS COMING Sukari Farrington Halloween is creeping up day by day. Soon it will be twelve o'clock on Halloween night. The night the witches come out and sit around the cauldron. Halloween night is coming. The children come out in the costumes of the night. The air is dead. You can smell the danger. The witches watch and wait for the stroke of twelve. Halloween night is coming. With zombies and gargoyles who can be safe? The dogs are barking, We wonder why. Maybe they sense something we don't. The babies are crying. We wonder why. Maybe they know something we don't. Halloween night is coming. Halloween night is coming. 10 iiaHALLOWS EVE Gabrielle P. Lowe It is quiet Too quiet. There is no wind. It is as if it is holding its breath in morbid expectation. The sun is but a crimson glow. The silence grows thicker as the fog rolls in. There is an eerie presence. Slowly the crowd is spat out upon the streets. Doorbells are rung. "Trick or treat," they shout. Then it's over all too suddenly and the valley is submerged in subslued silence. WJulia Jackson On Halloween night you hear the children scream ¢ running from the goblins that breathe out steam they see little pumpkin heads walking in the night they're scared really scared they're scared from all the fright the witches they go hunting for children's heads this is a time to wake up the dead all hell breaks loose on this night the. devil comes to do his work he comes to take people's souls and he buys them for a price and he goes back to hell & eats them with rice 12ao HELL'S EVE Alicia Bates The Goblins rang the bell The Ghosts are coming up from hell The last night for witches to scream It is now called Halloween Tiny elfins trick or treat Scaring grownups that they meet Hoblins & Goblins all will weave Having fun on all Hell's eveHALLOWEEN SCARES As-Shareem Alalah Oh no! It's here not again Not another year. No more fun Ust spooks and ghosts. Just cogins and devils that's what ' hate the most. It's all just Tunning, scaring and hiding. Oh | Can't take no more of these sitting Just eggs, flour, butter and milk if they only knew how that others fet, Getting dress ‘ed up looking all Nice. Then getting stuck up with a big butcher knife. So just to prevent all this mess just sign this petition it's for the best. Now I'm going now © go on my way. And I hope just Ope you don't forget my pay.Vielka Elvy | feel Halloween is very stupid because kids bother me when I'm asleep they ask for candies when I don't have any...makes me feel guilty. My mother upset me by refusing to buy me a disguise 'cause she thought | was too old. hate the look of those orange pumpkins and the eggs they crack against my head without mentioning the hair spray that took my hair away.Marc Gillespie The howl of the fierce Red Beast pierced the stillness of the night fearful of the coming feast goblins flew high in their fright dragon footfalls shook the wood beating out a deathly dirge nymphs and dryads merely stood proof against the mighty scourgeEE... HALLOWEEN POEM Jordan Dick | My friends and | we walked the streets and stalked the night while flying our phantom goblin kite. We sprayed the store windows true with blue and the witches were spraying their cans too. The night was young and so were we at the time I was in the mood for a giant Blimpie So ends that horrible time, that dreaded night of terror, Halloween night. 7HALLOWEEN POEM Jonathan Isaacs The Wind is a breeze. A long dreary day. The Wugguly Ump is not far away. : It's Halloween night and there are many children's feet. The Wugguly Ump needs something to eat. His stomach is empty. He gives out a screech, "Where's my friend Herbie, the blood sucking leech." From door to door and house to house, Oh look, he sees a plump mouse. A cat in the alley. A flower on the sill. The Wugguly Ump has gone in for the kill. 18ed HALLOWEEN Alexandra Krispel Dracula walks with Peter Rabbit Blood and carrots are the fare Spirits of the dead whisper Halloween will soon be here. Fear is my companion Fog my enemy But | wear my witch's costume Cause it's what I choose to be Skeleton fingers, do tickle my spine | know it's an illusion A state I can't define Jack-o-Lanterns light a path Through:candles in the hollow Trick or treaters ring the bell Two dozen more to follow Halloween is my favorite day To scare the neighbors silly With monster masks and bunny ears The reception is neyer chilly.Morgan Phillips He wanted to be a Jack-o-Lantern and emit a scary light He would sit in a. dark window and people would die from fright somebody bought him and took him home and then they set him down. He was so happy he could cry and then they cut his crown They cut him up, put him on the stove, and then he started to fry - So he was no longer a spooky Jack-o-Lantern he was a big fat pumpkin pie 20DON'T LOOK BACK Ken Rath Don't look back, It might attack. I heard a terrible scream, It's only a horrible dream, I think | saw something shimmer, Now the lights are starting to grow dimmer. Now | am worrying, I think | saw a grey mouse scurrying, The creepy shadows are coming near, The crazed killer is just about here. There is no time to begin to run, Because the murder is finally done. 21HALLOWEEN NIGHT | John Waite f On Halloween night the witches dance in an evil hollow Practicing their black rites a priest falls from the tower Down, down the belfry stairs he is dead when he hits the bottom Terrifying the entire town the Witches keep on prancing Practicing their evil art they light a church a-flame Hurriedly they keep on chanting the sun is nearly risen A few more churches are a-fire Then their night is over.TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT David Reichman The children are dressed in their ghastly attire, a dream of fantasy that they aspire, Goblins, Devils, Ghosts, and Creatures with makeup upon their horrific features. The pitter-pat of many feet, as the children saunter down the street. Bag in hand and dreams in their minds, of trick-or-treat candy of all sorts and kinds. From rooftop and house, they will be seen. Tonight's the night, It's Halloween. 23AN AVERAGE NIGHT AT THE GRAVEYARD Peter Rovit ’ Gary, Greg, Gooney and | go to the graveyard to pass some time. Our trick or treat bags are filled to the rim We sit down under a tombstone grim. A terrible shriek echoes throughout the yard and before Gooney moves his head is ripped té shards. Before Gooney's body stands a hideous zombie. It chuckles, ‘Tag, you're it!! 24BLOOD FEAST Michael Sheinheit They search in the dark Like wraiths who survey Draining the life and searching for prey Thriving on death and needless to say Treacherous creature In day do they lay They wait and wait and wait for victints that pass And sink their teeth like sharks into bass Blood and guts he gobbles a mass A craving, a need, a love, alas 25THE EVE Alexi Stoltz The old house loomed atop the hill, The black cat closes in for the kill. The wind beats strongly upon the shades, like ethereal ghosts from gloomy Hades. Bats whiz around the entire place, like tiny grim reapers without a face, and perched on the left window sill, is a carved out pumpkin, sitting still. Its eyes are filled with a demonic fire, they pierce right through the screens of wire. Not a light is bright in this dreary scene except the pumpkin's candles, looking keen. But what, you ask, could be causing all this fright? That's easy, for this eve is Halloween night. ey LOH 26ZOMBIES Collin Spanier We are the zombies, we like to eat people, if you don't be careful, we'll eat your Aunt Mabel. We like your flesh, It tastes so fine, don't you wish the zombies drank wine? They are so evil, and so bad, ‘on Halloween night, They'll rise from the dead. 27THE NIGHT EVIL PREVAILED Alex Valent Screams filtered through the night, black as pitch, Alas, another young soul encountered a witch, The axe fell and fell again, The pack stole another babe to its den. The clock struck nine, One more paid the ultimate fine, Wraiths watched and serpents coiled, Yet one more plan of good was foiled. This night evil prevailed, bodies and limbs flew and sailed, The shadow raised its bloody knife, The demons fought with fury and strife, Men who were thought gone arid dead, Twisted off another head. The clock struck twelve, Hear the screams and hear the wails, The world's full of terror because, This is the night evil prevails. 28Jeff Jonson It was dark, it was late, | started to debate with the ladies of the 80's. | jumped behind the wheel of my 105 in my Coup de Ville. 1 went to the party late one night, | saw Superman and he wanted to fight. | said, ‘it's all right, we're steel tight." Then I took him out of the game with the kryptoniteA LEGEND L. V. Hall In Jersey there lived, as I have been told, When science was yet in its shell, A worthy old Dutchman, who offered much gold To any wise man who could tell How to drive from his cellar a troublesome witch, Who nightly disturbed his repose, By leading him forth o'er thorn-hedge and ditch, By a ring made fast in his nose. 'So droubled am I,' said our hero one day, ‘Tat I'd giff de pest hoss in me parn, To any old wizard tat may dravel tis vay, For to trive tis old hag from me varm! 'My cals tey run vild, my cows tey run try, No putter my woman can make; My pees leave de hives, my gattle dey dies, No gomfort at all can | dake.! 31One evening when all had retired to bed, And left the old man in his chair, He sighed as the darkness grew thicker, and said, ‘Ich wold garn ins bet ga won ich darf.' But the old mansion shook with a November gale, Dread spectres were stalking without, And howled through each crevice the horrible tale That Mynheer was thinking about. Dense wreaths of tobacco smoke curled round his head While the old kitchen clock, that for years Had measured each moment of time as it sped Tick'd louder to banish his fears. But darkness grew thicker, the candle burnt blue, A sulphurous smell filled the room, While the tumult without waxed fiercer, as grew The clock face more pale in the gloan. 32While Van Hochtail thus mused (for that was his name) The clock in the corner tolled one; The candle went out, when a fit seized his frame And he thought, sure the devil is come. The door was thrown open, a figure rushed in, A bellowing sound-then a crash; All consciousness fled, while away on the wind The Dutchman was borne in a flash. The whole of that night, in the form of a horse, He scoured the country around, With a witch on his back, as a matter of course, And not until morning he found Himself in his chair, his hat in his hand, His pipe and his wig on the floor; The storm had passed off, the morning was clear, And the clock tick'd on as before. (19th century) 33TWO POEMS ‘by Sparrow TRICK OR TREAT 1 am invisible. You are looking at the person behind me. TRICK OR TREAT I am the doorknob you're holding, 35JAMES W. MARSHALL RETURNS Margot deSilva he walks dressed in rags that match grey hills wherever he looks the houses are down rain-washed, sun-bleached boards where once was a town the trees they've all been cut for cash the river that glowéd she's been robbed of her gold grey stones, grey water once teeming with men ruddy with brawn fists grabbing at particles red, yellow reflecting the sun 36telling of riches sure to be won over there atop the hill a statue of a man with a pan full of dust down below his cabin stands complete with stove but cold, dead as stone in the larder a squirrel has set up a nest ants inhabit the mattress snakes coil in the springs there aint no place for a man to be even a ghost...there's no one to see only the Post Office rises intact but empty and still no parcels from the city, not even a newspaper rests in the box for a ghost to read 37THE HALLOWED DAWN James Henry Brennan In days Celtic, this night sinister Marked the herd's incoming from pastures greengone, The last corn inlaid. ..the lighting of the New fire, numinous...magic ceremonies of winterscoming: that Bleak, fallow, blackbarren season of the northcountry... Fraught with glaciate fear (for who could know who would survive the Starkling cold to see again the sun of spring?). Myriad years bring now this night anew: no longer the Fearfilled, nocturnal pleasing of harsh, removed gods, but rather a time of Play, a Pretendtime, pretending fear of beings Not real: demigods demonic, ghosts and goblins, Shades, Specters, Avatars, all Manner of nether spirits... spirits become Benign... 38| — Y A night of mischief, of | Comedy...meant for the gay Teasing of hideous phantoms, mockthreatening. ..with Jack-o-lantern watchmen, and witches, Wildcackling, their brooms sweeping clean the cosmos, Swishing strong against the moon. This night has become a Rite of Freedom, freeing Us (for a moment) from the fear of those Spirits Not seen...for we have learned that They are really only us, in Masquerade, swirling About the darkling closets of our souls...and we Know (we must believe) that, always, Tomorrow Bears the warm, the new, the Hallowed Dawn.SKELETONS Emma Landau Rattling bones rise from graves. will roam earth inted and loose wanting one more look. Restless they join pranksters with awkward advances lacking muscle and sinew, shadowless and of no substance perpetually grinning. At cock-crow graves clank shut. Blank shadows disappear in an eye blink. Before the bottle is stoppered a smell of sulphur hints of their unhoused presence. 40 SSSSSSS——————nnaapas———s—s—s—rsm™”"—SHALLOWEEN Emma Landau The night is filled with a fever. It swarms, a pulsating world of small goblins, witches and skeletons, reflected in lighted windows and open doors while toothy pumpkin faces glow with candle fire.SHADOW HUNT Emma Landau An apparition nebulous as fog a black shadow with painted white face gaping mouth wide black grimace twirled a flour-filled it left its mark, a smudge and ache. Fading to nothing a hiss of laughter hung in leaden air. 42< a 2 3 0 < 3 ss a = > a € 5 S a aNIGHT POEM #10 Nothing works. Can't lie on my stomach -- then death can tap me on the shoulder. Can't lie on my back -- not after reading Kafka's Metamorphoses. Can't still -- then the air becomes ible cement. Can't lie moving -- then the burglars will think | hear them And the various objects in the room will know | am not one of them. 44EYEBULBS [to my childhood self] When buying a new house, the only really important thing is to check that there are no overhead lights.’ Never let them buy you a house with overhead lights; overhead lights can be very dangerous. Oh, they're fine during the day, just like the moon and fireflies But at night they can get a little slippery. They stretch out their legs and crawl to the edges. They stretch out their arms and swing to the corners. And if the night is long enough, they ease their way down the wall. Then they encircle the room -- or rather, your bed. Sometimes they take the furniture with them. You stir, thinking it's the darkness swaying. They try to put everything back in its proper place by morning. They try to sneak back in to the socket and leave no trace. But if they don't succeed, the discrepancy will be so slight Only you will notice.THE COVERS AT NIGHT It's okay if your head sticks out. After all, you have to breathe. Besides, if you hide your nose they'll think it's a ball. They won't wonder why it doesn't roll down the pillows. They won't notice the neck. And it's okay if a finger comes slithering. They'll think that's a twig or a stick of moonlight or a part from some machine. Or It'll just blend in and they won't notice it at all. But your feet, your feet if even a toe falls out the bottom if even a toenail slices through they'll begin to suspect. ‘And when they see it drooping over the edge how it doesn't drop how its pink doesn't reflect the hallway, they'll more than suspect; they'll know for sure. And they'll come. They'll come. 46 pee ee ele A nS 2 oT RG GC7 THE REVOLT OF THE OBJECTS It begins at night in your bedroom. It begins with the overhead light which wants to be a chandelier. Then, like ink, it spreads radially outward ceiling walls and inward corners cracks. The ceiling wants to throb. The walls want to shimmer. And the corners tug, like 3 child at your skirts And the cracks sizzle and stretch. But you, in the bed, are really quite safe until it gets to the dresser which advances five steps 47 and the carpet whose magic is dark red and the mattress which springs to attention and the pillow which fights long and hard. It begins with the overhead light. Then it moves on down to the floor and it ends with the air fh dances away from your nose and with empty space which folds two dimensional and refuses to be filledBEHIND THE PICTURES Behind the pictures may lie more than wall. Time makes things happen and behind the pictures may lie doors, mirrors, more pictures. Behind the pictures may be a'map, a report card, the proof of Fermat's Last Theorem. Or behind the pictures may lie Flatland, line-land, or colonies of lonely point-lands. Actually what lies behind the pictures may not lie flat. After all, time adds on at least one dimen- sion and behind the pictures may be whole grow- ing villages. Or fourth, fifth, hundredth perpendiculars winding like ivy and quivering like webs. Or there may be a hand on a spring, or a head on a stick or simply music, music-box’ music. But if, upon taking down one of the pictures, you find only an awesomely blank rectangle, don't sigh. What lay behind that picture may have stuck to its back. What lay behind that picture may be pulling itself loose, or climbing around the frame, or already up your arm, 48CELLARS RECONSIDERED (Dream, 1977) Do not be misled by the false securi of cellars, for cellars, like eagles, have a way of soaring. Even grey becomes greyer by night, and low ceilings rise when you crouch in a corner. And cellar stairs lead up, too, not only down, and cellar doors slip open, not only shut. True, cellar windows are small, but rot smaller than you. And sure, cellar windows are high, but gravity cannot always be trusted. And bricks may seem sturdy, because there are no columns. But there are rows, and they can slide any minute. And cellar pipes lead all over the place -- through the walls and into the ground and into other cellars. Do not bé misied by the false security of cellars, for cellars are attached to the rest of the house. And cellar ceilings spring leaks, and the leaks stretch into holes, and the holes spread into gaps. Or olse the whole thing comes off, like the lid of a box, and you, like a balloon, are forced into the sky.FOR A DEAD BABY'S FIRST HALLOWEEN (diary excerpt, 1978) Yes, | can, this year -- even though | now have dead, even though there's now someone dead | love -- | can, still, easily, and sincerely, work up that same enthusiasm for the daily costume changes my kids have been concocting this entire month. What | mean is: | feel quite casual and normal when they dress up as angels, devils, ghosts, and skeletons. In fact, one afternoon we all get down on the floor and draw pictures for Elle's upcoming Halloween -- ninth-birthday party, and I —- in typical mommy-fashion, draw the Ghost Family. Mama Ghost, Papa Ghost, Sister Ghost, Brother Ghost, 50and -- to celebrate my new pregnancy -- Little Biddy Fetus Ghost, all curled up inside Mama Ghost, complete with crossbones, umbilical cord, and mischievous grin. And later that day, when Elle asks, "Mommy, what does Kerin look like now?" and when | answer, sadly but lovingly and matter-of-factly, "Oh, just a skeleton, sweetheart. Nothing but a skeleton." Elle smiles and looks in my eyes. "That's okay," she tells me. "A little teeny skeleton. That's cute, Ma. A bitty baby skeleton. That's not so bad, Ma; that's not so bad. Really, Ma. That's not so bad." 51Our thanks to the teachers of PS 41, PS 152, PS 231 & IS 70 for cooperating with us on producing poetry for this issue of WATERWAYS. Mlustrations unless otherwise identified from Dover Publications: Quaint Woodcuts in the Chap Book Style, Joseph Crawhall MEN A Pictorial Archive from Nineteenth-Century Sources, Jim Harter Treasury of Fantastic and Mythological Creatures, Richard Huber