Thursday, April 28, 2011

East Pointing Possum

High persimmon limb hanging
Possum horizontal in the storm
Sharp nose pointing east
Triangular bunched heads branch out from her snug pouch
Possum babies knowing such blowing is how life will be
Wind frizzed mamma possum
Dark peace in her bosom
Withstanding wind
With strong wound tail
Her ratty progeny unafraid
Inside the possum compass
Pointing toward sunrise and roosting hens
She’ll live through raging wind
To raid.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Tongues

In that low bog, lo,
A tongues message
From one bass bullfrog
Among many tenor
Incantations full.
Oh owl interpretation!
Coyotes get the gist as well:
These tell
By hoos & howls
What that bass bullfrog bellows:
Kalla bo nika kalla kull--
“In this low bog, lo,
Same star stuff full
Shapes all.
You, oh man,
Are such as frog--of star. . .
But long since
Missed so very much
From talking sense.”

Partner

You hear
Without doubt
A fancy truth
Only fools get
You guess & yet
There is a chance
You are wrong.
The song
May be
For all to dance to.
If you
Show up
Who
Will cut the rug
With you?
Without doubt
You’ll find out.

The Food Curse

Uncle Tweed Walker was a man by God
Expressed--not a draft not flawed--
Shot with wit was he
From womb to tomb.
With me on his gnarly knee
Tweed told me once he’d seen
A snake come forth from horse hair in the trough.
This truth
Was absolute
In my youth:
The hair was there
& then the snake. . .
Now I am old
& my food tastes snakey
Just like Tweed said it would
If ever I doubted.
My faith is dead.
Even buttered biscuits taste
Like snake.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Music of Your Walk (for a friend in grief)

Smoothe cedars by the lake make violins
In shadows and sleek frogs thump double bass.
You slow your evening walk to hear begin
A symphony of lonliness and loss.
Not many nights ago she held your hand.
Dusk was different then when all you heard
Were happy wind and whippoorwills. The band
Now plays a mournful song. Without a word
You syncopate the song with heavy steps
Outwalking any sound till every din
Save one is gone: that din down in the depths
Of all it means to hold no hand again.
The music of your walk is not the same
For only stillness answers to her name.

tongues 2 mull

n that low bog lo
tongues message
from bass frog bull
mongst many tenor
n can ta tions full

o owl interpretation mull
coyotes can the gist as well
these tell
by hoos & howls
what lone bass frog bull bellows
n tongues kalla bo nika kalla kull

N THIS LOW BOG LO
SAME STAR STUFF FULL
SHAPES ALL
&
YOU O MAN
R SUCH AS FROG OF STAR
BUT LONG SINCE
MISSED 2 MUCH
FROM HAVING SENSE MULL.