I posted Bob's "To a She or a General They" a couple of weeks ago. Last Friday, I bought his poetry book, Acrobat, and really enjoyed the warmth and wit that suffuse his poems. Bob and I are going to read one another's poems at the Pink Pony open-mic this Friday. I have decided to read the perfect little poem, "Warm," which not only displays that wit, but also conveys Bob's gift for observation and his spirit of adventure.
"Warm" by Bob Hart
The warm blood of the walrus;
his frost filled whiskers and his syrupy eyes:
swimming, he butts the ice.
The warm blood of the polar bear,
white like butter across the starwhite wastes:
emerged from the transparent splash
he can run or sleep in snow,
his vapored breath an aura round his mouth
like our planet's air against sub-zero space.
I like these guys.
I'd like to play one in a movie.
Cool but kind in an embittering world.
No day's work with him
without some smile.
Or the other fellow. Plump with twinkly eyes.
Just came in from
captaining a couple of light years flight
asking if you'd
rather have tea or whiskey.