C a n d a c e  M o o r e


<< Two Poems >>


d o g g e r e l

mud-puppy found a nap turning in the spit.
fangs clutch a wool fish, sawing the clothcatch
which spurns teeth more in a sleep infested
by ticks- malignant stars spasming shortburn.

traversed by gentle magistrate of drupe,
wild brier, mountain-ash, prarie chases
in numerous violets and constellations
a gallant hound bolt over a heavy

sea. might be shot at any hedge-
through feigned or fitful zigzag, some
kind of blunt-headed arrow.
draw kennel, draw firegrate, cheap coal-sly stop.

a worthless bitch may throw rare
a sirius stone.



s c e n i c

you weren't marked profane
amidst local stage-machines, to interview at business.
an attraction at fairs, often giddy and stormy,
you enter foot and horse, shift hangings

or histronic illusionings, including the platform
on which the minature railway stood.
hence the departure of the assemblage:
actors, painters, and greeks quit, wide-smiling.

feeling things die after all, bound to being done.
you, aggregate of the picturesque, an open folly,
a little-logical concourse, presented real-life
in complication of incidents, the structure of which

formed the background, veiled the place
wherein narration is supposed to occur.



Candace Moore resides in Los Angeles, where she is a contributing editor and monthly film columnist for "Girlfriends" magazine, and works at the UCLA Center for African American Studies. She recently received her MFA in Poetry from San Francisco State University, and is now working on a novel, "hypos," and a collection of poetry (of which "scenic" and "doggerel" are a part) entitled "dicta-sonnets," which attempts to retranslate the Oxford English Dictionary.