Malcolm Miller Poems
Malcolm Miller was a Salem poet. His main entry is Miller, Malcolm H.
Thanks to Rod Kessler, English professor Emeritus from Salem State we have some of his
Salem-Centric poems listed below.
Malcolm Miller’s Salem Poems –an incomplete compilation [13 February 2016]
Standing on the Salem-Beverly bridge gazing seawards at four in the morning March 1990
to the right the final
part of Salem shines
with spaced lights curving
towards the end
of our power
to the left Beverly
like a finger lit
by many gold
rings points
towards some union
out beyond
our marriages
out where only dark
bigger than all our lights
seem to call
I am going
I am going
will I see
will I see
you there?
[INTO THE HIGHER AIR, 1992, 72 pages, p.8]
Witch Trials Salem Mass. 1692
the trees were stark
to begin with
and the choppy sea
often grey and cold
Indians had strange
ways and eyes
their arrows could travel
a long way and accurately
far off the English king
could not be relied on
rumors spoke of changes
not to their advantage
order is always maintained
by a form of no
the haunches of women even young
shake fire in the thatched-roof cabins
fire is a dangerous element
and a moral god insufficient
there are always reasons to kill
many wished for more than twenty
[INTO THE HIGHER AIR, 1992, 72 pages, p.33]
A clean Well Lighted Place In Winter
it’s 3 in the morning
the fatal lapsed hour
I am the sole
customer here
in this Dunkin Donut on
the coast of Massachusetts
the coffee is all right
the donut not bad
the music being offered
only fair
and behind the counter
the young woman
who quit high school
out of boredom
is yawning
a mute kind
of weary-eyed goddess
but a goddess none the less
in this god
blessedly open place
or don’t you know
don’t you know yet
about closed up towns
in cold dark times
[FURTHER AND FURTHER POEMS (1992), 72 pages, p.65]
ZONE 3
I used to buy a ticket
from Boston that said
to Salem Mass
now it says
to Zone 3
I used to have moments
of joy now I have
no problems
I used to be free and easy
now I am acceptable
and do the right
thing for
the situation
I used to be loyal
to something I could not
define now I am
a good citizen
[FURTHER AND FURTHER POEMS (1992), 72 pages, p.16]
State College Canteen
on his last day of work the guy
by some quirk of inspiration
profit or satire
loaded the huge soft
drink machines with beer
the price was right and the day
spring-like
never have students learned more
about religion
Dionysius was dancing in the halls
and singing in the corridors
never did the philosophy professor
a master of logical positivism
seem more absurd
his much praised sobriety was found
to be a sort
of living death and all the English
instructors by afternoon were being
booed from the building
for not knowing how to teach
young people how to return
to the sun
[POEMS THAT NEED YOU (1993) p.41]
there is a sign in a bar in my
home town that is like modern life
do not hesitate to ask for credit
it says
our way of saying no is very polite
[Unsatisfactory Fragments of Lukewarm Fire, (Jan. 2004) p. 57]
College Girl in Massachusetts
in the winter dawn a girl bound
for history class sure
footed and neat with
the grace of morning
her face almost fresh as
recent snow the night’s
full twinkling moon over
Salem harbor
college girl bearing your proud
unchallenged face towards
the necessary war of all
the living I go
with you
I go with you clear-eyed sprite
your earnest brow of morning
even over here I feel
your unique breathing
the privateness of your being
descended from trees and birds
and from darkness kind
to all its stars
I go with you lovely scholar
and may you find on
your way however
buried the gold
of unteachable joy
[The Taste of Inexplicable Nothingness, 1994]
HAWTHORNE
Nathaniel Hawthorne you never went
to a brothel
drank but not to excess
were not athletic and agile but sat
your large domed skull hid
subtle and at times sinister thoughts
you married one of Salem’s Peabody sisters
and never committed adultery
at dusk in Salem after Bowdoin
you went walking in dark heavy clothing
your face impossible to read
and children were fearful
your sunless body did not discover god
what pleased you you enjoyed but life
was at bottom a sort of wretched thing
lightened by family and comfort
Melville your temporary friend by far
was a holier more extraordinary spirit
his work outlives yours but still
the best hotel in Salem is the Hotel Hawthorne
in it one can eat the Scarlet Letter lunch
the menu boasts sinfully unpuritan desserts
a huge statue of you looms on Hawthorne Boulevard
nobody around here notices it much
midwestern schoolteachers snap your photo
busloads of them file through the streets
the House of Seven Gables is a must
making the city a lot of do re mi
talent you had and intelligence to spare
what was lacking was lacking almost fatally
[THE TASTE OF INEXPLICABLE NOURISHMENT ( 1994), p.10]
good night Irene
I have a cousin
Irene
she often stands downtown with
a severe condemnatory look
as if the world
has disappointed her
she doesn’t know who
Walt Whitman is
if she did
he could be in
for a real good
talking to
Jesus Suspended In Stone From the St Joseph Church Salem Mass
Son of a distant desert people
what are you doing up there
hanging like some penance
or warning of what can happen
if you speak well and directly
and don’t flatter the top dogs
your body hangs huge
as a statue from Easter Island
a continual embarrassment if noticed
a terrible mistake like Stalin
in Red Square kept alive
by technological skills
and a lot of money
you seem hooked up to a sort
of pillory by puritans or sadists
what did you do anyway
and how weary you must be all
these centuries hanging there
gaped at by foreigners who
can’t really tell why
they keep you on view
as they go about earning more TV
channels and winter trips to Florida
you’re more or less like a prisoner
captured in a war who just got
lost in the shuffle and never
made it back
to your own people
[THE TASTE OF INEXPLICABLE NOURISHMENT (1994), p.33]
at the campus of one of the lesser
state colleges in Massachusetts
a disgusting perhaps degenerate
professor is eyeing the tan
new bodies of poor
quality students
most hardly made it out
of high school and many so
unscholarly will fail in
a year departing on these long fitness
crazed legs he ogles and wants
wrapped around him
a disgusting professor is eyeing
some of the greatest bodies in
history that will not be able
to cope with Shakespeare or calculus
Kierkegaard and even Picasso
might seems European rock bands to them
the disgusting degenerate prof
is eyeing them
hips sinuous with strength and
beauty the gods would rock with
may they live forever the poor
quality students with miserable
IQ’s and long shining rich
hair in the wind their skins of
magical entrancement and their
fine shaped skulls that do not
bother with history or ethics
or expository prose
the disgusting professor is eyeing
them day after day
he is paid 34,000 per annum and
worth every penny
[THE TASTE OF INEXPLICABLE NOURISHMENT (1994), p.56]
