Alan Abrams is a retired carpenter, builder, and architect with defective credentials. He occasionally writes stories and poems, a handful of which have been published in journals including The Innisfree Poetry Journal, Bud and Branch, The Rat’s Ass Review, and The Raven’s Perch. His poem, Aleinu, published by Bourgeon, is nominated for the 2023 Pushcart Prize. Someday, he may finish his first novel.

THREE POEMS ABOUT POETS

By Alan Abrams

Ask the Bartender

If you find
A shamrock
On the head

Of your pint,
Consider it
An honor.

And if a white haired
Gent on the next
Stool reminds you

Of that profile
Shot of Seamus
Heaney wearing

A sly grin, ask
The Bartender for
Paper and pen.

You never know
What might pop
Into your head.

Ode to Li Po

There is a slender stream, slicing through town
that must be traversed, to reach my home.
I’ve got a pipe in my pocket and a head full of wine,
and as I plunk-plunk-plunk upon the bridge planks,
an owl barks at the rising moon.

There, over the sparkling trickle, I pause
to light a bowl. Deeply drawing smoke,
The pipe’s orange glow swells
to rival the moon’s warm blush.
Without a sound, the owl takes flight.

The one soars past the other,
Their twins skim the stream.
Their witness exhales leisurely,
And then departs the scene.