POEMS FOR NOONE  

Figures

I wish the figures I see would leap up and speak for me.

There is a window where the eye glances inward to the silent man
sitting with hands folded, staring off into a dark area containing, apparently,
                      an object of value.

That chair looks weak and could collapse under the weight he appears to carry;
perhaps it is a famous painting he is staring at with a lit naked bulb above it, 
figures animate the frame, speak to him, everyone shows him how hard it is 
                    to figure out.

He must speak so I can see him and place him delicately along the fluted river.
Perhaps he is the President but I doubt it since he is alone, contemplating beauty.

A rogue then, the type social workers try to save; but he moves mischievously onward
to find a place to sit in an empty wharehouse where bolts and transitors are kept!

He loves the smell of working tools so stays and imagines he is back in school
                deciding on the type of career he wants.

He was blue for awhile, then turned red; I see nothing of his body, just the head.

If only he could rise and tell the silence what it is I want to say.