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.

FILES © Jan Sand I have seen cemeteries Throughout the world. Military cemeteries where Identical crosses stab the earth In the manner of the letter “T” Produced by holding down the key Of a word processor. In Istanbul the headstones Are marvelous twists of carved stone. Other places are well populated With angels, cupids, birds, Faceless shrouded figures. There are great shafts of polished rock, Large blocks, small blocks. Icons. Some cemeteries are as neat as golf courses. Others are rocky brambles, broken stones. People have been filed under stones Which are labeled what and where and when and who. But the files themselves Are missing. MAGIC © Jan Sand When Death closes its fist There is magic. The open bony hand of Death Does not release a white dove Nor a butterfly Nor a pink eyed rabbit with long ears. Merely dust which flows Through the fleshless fingers Along with a few crumbs of bone. It is magic Like the pretty girl Who is no longer in the box Bu now stands up in the spotlight At the back of the audience To wild applause. The beloved dead are now Safely in my head Where, in quiet moments, In dreams, We talk and argue and laugh And attend the circus To wild applause. WATER © Jan Sand Innocent enough in itself in itself, Not much to catch the concerned mind, Locally, at least, in planetary terms, It lubricates the daily grind, Performs the vital roles in cooking, cleaning, And, a hot seductive tub can soothe away The problems of a troubled day. But the slightest introspection will lay out That this common stuff is probably What we’re all about. Teenie weenie bags of flavored water Jumbled with a trace of other elements Have conjoined in communal enterprise To produce, in three billion years, Endless capability to invent and surprise, Once parsed out from the ocean In a way to stifle sloshing, Dealing in its unique way To animate (I’m not joshing) The air, the rocks, and sundry other things To fabricate an eye, a leg, a bone or two To transmute this junk into me, And, of course, you. But now’s no time to relax, ‘Cause water is, I guess, Just beginning in its acts To fool around with this mess We call “The Planet Earth”. The protozoa were quite fun But simple, at the start. Sophistication has begun And mankind will take part With digital components And bones of stainless steel. Water will begin to realize Its ambitions, now, for real. So, heigh-ho for Europa Where water is profuse. A moon, now, forbidding And of little use. But once our water magic Armored in human form Can fling itself across the gap, Life’s hold on this cold globe Will be a snap.