Short Stucco Poems

COMING TOO SOON
by H.B.Ussach

Popping up like pre-fab stucco-concrete-aluminum posies,
Poking up on parking lots as donut shops and quick lubes,
They are plain, utilitarian, proletarian low-low-price bunkers
On a retail war-weary land....

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Hit your head against the proverbial wall
Your everyday Nafferti in stucco
carries the wind
but being only seventeen
whose opinions ran counter to the realm

Pale daughters yawn diligently
They've lost the art of commitment
Are they truly free ?
Talking in whispers
the World does not care...

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.

            and i look'd
                  look
              piercingly
          mine see fix'd
                   az
                stucco 

     az the skill'd plasterer
               haz laid
                    I 
             mine eyne
                lock'd
             knowingly
             unto hern
                flesh...

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crumpet
bit of fluff
don't put me
into that category

the way you blinked
today made
me realize
that you
are far
too
beautiful
to look at
when the sun
is whispering and
shining through the 
curtain and stucco wall

your jugular bulges in the
circaidian
metronome
anticipatory
appreciable way

we look at the
moment
 and love each other
for today
if only
that...

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Nestled in the valley
with spring water fountains
a view of the mountains
San Sossio quaint and vibrant

Stucco colored houses
red roof tiled
on balconies pots in flower
graceful swallows in flight

My home on the ascent 
at the edge of town serene
from fountain fetched the water 
with neighbors bartered needs

Sparks of distant  stars
memories of smiles and songs
history to repeat is known
village life will return...

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Lord, these oak woods 
are more beautiful than anything 
they’ve built with stucco
and wrought-iron
on the hill’s opposing side.

I’d love to live here, Lord,
among your grasses. But I wince 
at every shovel-stroke. I know 
the first fence circumscribes
the grace of summer-tide.		

Who keeps a gate on Nature?
The frogs that swell their song 
at evening, or the breeze in pines?
Every night, Earth twists 
beneath us. Lord, with us abide....

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Trees scream:
night birds cry.
Power lines hum
like locusts.
In my sleeplessness
I float on still air.
My skin is stucco.
The heart lies dormant.
From this window
roof tops stand 
in hazy moonlight.
They metastasize
and I grow smaller.
My hair is shake,
my fingernails, tile.
The outside calls.
Leaves, be my ears.
Return me 
from my structure.
But I am mute;
I no longer speak
that language.
I converse
in drywall
and plaster,
have learned 
to function
on the moon....

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