Another sublime poem from Frank J. Edwards, author of the Pascal Editions thriller, Final Mercy:

Some images mean nothing,
Like the mound of bulbous mushrooms
On a kitchen table,
Or the pot of black-eyed peas
Simmering on an electric range,
Or the sweat puddled on a dying man’s chest
As cool air seeps through a metal screen.
Or even the way a fly lands on a page of sheet music
On my desk–The Girl from Ipanema—
As if the notes might have been a swarm of its comrades
Shambling up a ladder.
It wanders, looking,
Stops and buffs the underside of a wing
With its foreleg
Then darts up under the lampshade,
As if it and I had seen enough…

Read the rest of this fine work at Dr. Edwards web site at