Understand

A bumble bee hovering by the lights
Frightens your daughter as she rests on the couch,
Watching you lift weights to stave off the march of time.
I don’t want it to sting me daddy.
So you find an old newspaper, chase it
From ceiling tile to glowing light of attraction,
Until it lay on the carpet without threat.
Is it dead daddy?
It is dead.
What does it mean to be dead?
It means you cannot laugh or love anymore.
Do bees laugh and love daddy?
I think so, but we understand them
Even less than we do each other.

What is Needed

The music was haunting.
The walls were thin and the
prostitutes moaned falsely of love,
naked concertos of boredom.
Outside, the dim cobblestone roads
were marked with the stains of silence.

All that was real was
merely a hologram you needed,
you turned to them, and they were gone.
It was what you discarded as senseless
that saved you.

You reach down tonight,
into words as seeds of living.
This is all that you know in this moment.

Rich Furman is a professor in the Department of Social Work at Colorado State University, and has had numerous poems published in literary journals throughout the years. As far as other relevant biographical information, in case you are curious, he enjoys contemplating the meaning of his navel, lives with two terrifying looking yet sweet American Bulldogs, a sweet looking and sometimes terrifying fiancé, and two kids who are as terrifying as banana slugs to a rhinoceros. He has traveled and lived in Central America, and tries to get back as often as he can. He loves to read poetry from the small press, poetry that is real, alive, hits you in the gums and gets out. He loves to receive feedback on his work, if you are so inclined. Rich Furman, Assistant Professor, Department of Social Work, Colorado State University.

Email: Rich Furman

Return to Table of Contents