Some Poems by H. Z. Zilch

Here are a few of H. Z. Zilch's more notable poems. At the time, Zilch was deeply in love with his next door neighbor, Willa Sue Swink. The gaps in the text marked by the [???] were created when Zilch folded up his best poems, put them over his heart, and tried to kill himself with a small caliber pistol.

Thought

The olden days bring back
memories of cries of painful joy.
Across wide water
I see her walking.  Walking.
Walking.

Call her Charlotte.
Call her Amy.
Call her one of my many loves
but the one I love the most.
When the night coats the homes of
loveless ones with Shadow.
The night when the 
Bats fly low
And squat on my head.
Mash my thoughts
Turn my brain to squalor.

No need to wonder why.
Or why not
Or how come.  Or whyso.
I know.

The Bats fly low.
The even grows.
I touch my knuckle along the side
of my nose.
And feel a touch of eternity
In the pulse of my big neck vein.

[7/12/16]


STARS

The stars light up the night.
Betelgeuse.  Orion . . .
The Big Dipper . . .
The Little one . . .
The one I always forget the name
     of on the left . . .

The dog star that craps on my lawn.
The bear that roars in the oceans
     of my mind.

How can I [???] it?
Why can't I drive her car?
I hike hills of regret and stare
Across wide water.

Why is the sun so long suspended
On the others side of my earth?

I weep
I weep a weep of weeps
I sigh.
I take my coat and button my
     collar
And pull my hat over the wart on
My forehead.
No one sees me tonight.

[7/16/16]


THE SUNNY SEASON

In the Sunny Season,
The bats pollute the land
With their dung.

In the Sunny Season,
The ogre crawls around the
Edge of the moon.

In the Sunny Season,
A shadow falls
On the taverns of the soul.

Have you seen the bats flying over the farm?
Flitting and clinging to the air waves
Eating flying things?

I once saw a butterfly winging
     its way to the stars.
But it was eaten by a bat in broad
     daylight.

I saw it panting on    lum
     tree in my back
I saw it sucking the    from my [illegible]
I saw it blink its eye.
I saw it clutch its belly in laughter.
I saw it roll on the ground.
I saw it shredding my butterfly's wing.

May a bat fly in your heart, oh
     proud man.
The ogre crawls around the edge of
     the moon.  [7/3/16]


OGRE

She is an ogre
She sucks the wind from life
I pine. I wither.

Whither may I go?
She has my heart in her breast
     pocket.
She fogs my world.
What else
I love h[??]eternal love,
Above wh[??]rightness
Can perc[??]

I tried to give her my favorite
     gourd
But she was no gardener
All she would say was, "Go away"
And "yuk yuk."

A woman is a deeper mystery
Than winter on a summer night
Or truck on trucks.

[7/6/16]


HALF-COOKED

             I fill a trash can of desire,
             I pour it out.
             Who cares?
             Who cares? 
      Who cares?
Who cares?
Who cares?
Who?
    Who?

I asked her why? why? why?
Why she did it.
She turned bright red--
A sunset across the smoggy smoggy crags
Of her pock-marked cheeks.

I fill a washtub full of love
And the world
     the world pulls the 
          plug.
I get wet.
I wear an omelette on my head
     Half-cooked.

[7/14/16]



Untitled

I go to the side of the road and stare
  at the ants carrying
  husks of corn to their home.
Husks of corn bigger than their
         teensy selves.
Nourishment  [  ?  ]  the winter of
   their days.

Ah ants!  The winter comes--
Comes riding in the trolley car
     of Autumn!
Ah ants!  Store the corn.
Ah ants! Pack it tight.  Store the corn!
Hold the drool in the corner of your
      mouth.
Till you lock the grain in your little
         grain house.

Oh if I could store the corn for
    The Autumn of my days.
I sense the days of days.
    The corn blight blights my siloed corn.
The corn worm burrows in my tassle.

Ah! ants! teach me to dance!
Let me ride the trolley car of AUTUMN!
Invite me to dinner!

                [5/14/16]


Thought

The olden days bring back memories of
  cries of painful joy.
Across wide water I see her
  walking.  Walking.  Walking.  Walking.

     Call her Charlotte.
     Call her Amy.
     Call her one of my many loves
        but the one I love the most.
        When the night coats the homes of
        loveless ones with Shadow.
        The night when the Bats fly low
        And squat on my head.
               Mash my thoughts
               Turn my brain to squalor.

               No need to wonder why.
               Or why not
               Or how come.  Or whyso.
               I know.

               The Bats fly low.
               The evening grows.
               I touch my knuckle along the side of
                  my nose.
               And feel a touch of eternity
               In the pulse of my thought.
[6/13/16]
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