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FROM MONTANA
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POEM EXCERPTS
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(from the poem), "When The Cawing of Crows Wakes Me In the Morning It Makes Me Madder Than Hell"
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Lord help me! These urban Caws! They are arrogant on my ears. Bag-ladies, screaming subway lunatics, out of sync with pleasurable things, and all natural laws! Black they screech, with no song of bird, vicious voices of nasty parents, backstabbing gossips, gravel-throated, sycophants, groveling to be heard. These dark goblins were banished from our farm with shotgun blasts and target-honed twenty-twos, and scarecrows, before they could do us harm.
Corn-robbers, nasty bastard cunning sneaks, in my down-quilt dreams |
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(from the poem),
"The Minocqua Bridge" |
(from the poem),
"Morning" |
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At a time when there were no oil slicks, no speed limit buoys, no such thing as a jet ski, nothing even resembling a pontoon boat, and when everyone knew who the best fishermen were, there was a wooden bridge of timber struts and crossbeams set on coal-tarred pilings. The smell of it, the feel of timber grain upon your hand
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Greening rain, sweet mountain mist upon my lips,
gentle kisses on my cheek, whisper daybreak on luminescent shafts of sun and gently on my ear, its voice, the song of a canyon creek embraces morning. |
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| from the poem, | THE MAN WHO FISHES POEMS | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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How can a man who
madly stumbles over rocks and beavered alders risking six feet of wrinkled wader skin write love poems to rivers? |
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