Pathfinder by Alan Britt

Like Pathfinder
I retreat
across smooth roots,
streetlights,
and the moon’s severed hand
reaching for the wrinkled waist
of a pear tree.

Like Pathfinder
I slip sideways between mercurial shadows
on my way to the outskirts
of the known universe
just behind the speckled thigh
of a golden pear.

I enter each brown spot on the pear
looking for salvation
born inside each russet scale
sloughed from the body
of our most precious religion
we call time.

Once inside, I’m greeted
by black violins
and ten thousand suns digesting
a watery consciousness
inside snail shells.

Like Pathfinder
I retreat
across smooth roots,
streetlights,
and the moon’s severed hand
creasing the wrinkled hips
of a pear tree.


Alan Britt, MD, USA

READING POEMS by Alan Britt

Begin with first word and said word only;
uncover the second, third, fourth, etc.,
after thoroughly digesting one, two, and three’s relationship,
until you enter the naked shower
of language before you even know it.

The filthy pelican, for instance, forms multiple relationships
between filthy and pelican
long before the Falangist brain
insists upon conceptualizing everything
according to convenient myths seventeen words later.

You’re already inside the poem,
drifting or suffering through star-nosed tunnels
of the lexicon, anyway!

At least you’ve burrowed deep inside the poem
for one glorious moment, one subatomic breath,
one astrophysical strand
of String Theory left over
from yesterday’s visit to the local oncologist.




Alan Britt, Maryland, USA

April Afternoon by Alan Britt

Dog legs
flicker
through lattice,
Jacques’ vermilion collar
alerts the aureole
shivering
the robin’s
dazzling green overture.

The robin
braids her song
around a thick gray maple branch.

Her song, a small garter snake
disguised as an asp
escaping
the golden cup
of truth.

Alan Britt, MD, USA

December, 2002 by Alan Britt

Whoever heard of a photograph
staring back at you
making you uncomfortable?

I mean, what’s that all about?

Making you nervous,
like you needed to stand up
and perform some official duty?

Damn photograph just found me
in my burrow
deep in December.


Alan Britt, MD, USA