Jan Sand in New York JAN SAND, poet and illustrator from New York (now residing in Helsinki), is a regular contributor to Poetry Life & Times and the newsgroup alt.arts.poetry.comments. A great deal of his work is about animals, or science fiction. Recently Jan was published by Kedco Studios Artist Profile Press, on their latest CD ROM e-book, "A Way With Words (Poetry Real and Surreal), which also includes complete books by Dale Houstman, Sara L. Russell and Keith Gabriel Hendricks. Jan's illustrated book on the CD is called "Wild Figments And Odd Conjectures", which is also sold separately, in a limited-edition "single" CD. To see an illustrated article about Jan's poems, visit the November '98 issue of Poetry Life & Times, and scroll down past the Editor's Letter. He also has his own poetry pages on Charlotte's Web at Artvilla.

CONTINUITY © Jan Sand The linear graffiti we impose Onto the smooth flow of what we term events, The habit we have to designate these from those Rather than reality which tumbles out from sense. Its flow is smooth with, perhaps, rare edges Granting stability and cognizance. But something is lost. We orphan with these wedges That pry apart minute from minute with intents To contain within our sparse mentality A few fragments of wholeness. In language, tense Services this same instinct for epheremerality. The snowflakes, beautiful and individual, exist Only as a transition state of water, liquid Without intrinsic shape. they can momentarily persist And then – join again anonymity, fleeing the solid. So do we all lose, at end, definition, Undergoing processes for a new edition. ON TOP © Jan Sand This body wearies in its fight. On demand it picks up speed, Manages fifteen pushups, Twenty-five sit ups every morning. Digestion is a problem, But taste and smell still function well. It is too partial to ice cream And too much sugar in its tea. Nevertheless, I still sit here peering Out of the two holes on top Like a bird in a bird house And chirp. THE BUST OF LUST © Jan Sand Now that I am wheezing One would think That special link That commands I seek Someone less antique For fondling and squeezing Would become obsolete. But still I sift the community For that special opportunity To touch and lick and please, To approach on trembling knees To make a relationship complete. My elder eye still goes to roam Noting, carefully, a behind Or, secondarily, a mind (To place the horse behind the cart) That would appeal to this old fart And set his blood to boil and foam. But I have not cash nor power Like Bill Gates or Caesar To find a doll and squeeze her, Ply her with sweets and gin, And brag about what I’ve been (Probably bore her for an hour.) So I gratify desires By petting dogs and scratching cats, Consuming food with too much fats, Watching explosions on TV Dreaming of what might be To calm the glowing inner fires. At base, now, I don’t mind. I’ve loved my girls and they’ve liked me. I enjoy being free From a spat and a slap. (These days I prefer a nap) I’ve had the fruit. Now I’ll enjoy the rind. THEOLOGIC FROLIC © Jan Sand One wonders – How did Leda feel? Could that incident Be real? Attacked by a lascivious Overwhelming bird. Was she oblivious That this was Zeus On the loose? It seems absurd. Did he please? Could it be better With a Pekingese? Or, perhaps, With special effects Have sex With a tyrannosaurus rex? Maybe, in Freud’s way One could play With a snake On the make. So, what’s a girl to do? Avoid the zoo? Lately, other threats appear. As AI gets into gear One could be aware It might be wise to prepare For a sexy tryst With an overheated toaster One can’t resist. And then, what could be meaner Than being defiled By a vacuum cleaner? MICHELANGELO’S DAVID ON ALPHA CENTAURUS IV © Jan Sand Discovered several hundred thousand years After life was found to be extinct On the third planet from a nearby star, The strange rock elicited curiosity, some fears. One biologist theorized that it had been A giant form of life, petrified. But samples Had revealed no organic matter, nothing To indicate this stone had felt biologic discipline. A geologist had surmised the surface had been worn By liquid water – an exotic fluid that, at one time, May have been abundant on that odd planet, A theory quite unique for such a place so forlorn. Gazed upon from a special angle (perhaps the thought is mad), This form could be imagined to have lived. A foot, or something like a foot could be at one end And opposite, could it be a head with eyes completely sad?