I
then
I loved
the sun
bluebells sounding below
sang low
through the green meadow
I played
at the river's
edge
sweet leaf-stem
in my mouth
and the wind swept by
in a rain cloud
tasting of earth and sky
then dipping
over the hills
sunshine
gypsy of joy,
time slipping away
I ran through the fields
like a boy
II
sky
an old friend
blue
I followed
it
to
a green-banked river
with a cottonwood
view
but sky
has turned to grey
its sailor blue
has gone
and my old friend
will never have that hue
again
III
oh
what glitter
burning and streaming
in the magic night!
my eyes twinkle
in the river-glare,
mountains tolling
like cathedrals,
icy wind
on far pavilions,
snowy gatherings
on white bells,
pulse of night
in winter shells
IV
birth has no memory
I've been cheated
not to remember the womb
to have no vision
of candle light
or faces in the room
not to recall
a patch of blue
from the look in my mother's eyes
to have held my hand
in my father's hand
and witness his surprise
to have come this way
but only once
and denied this small reward
just to remember
the waiting crowd
and how the heaven's roared
V
moon rays murmur
on the screen door
a whinny-moo of sounds
sniff the bolt
drops of blue mist
on the wind-chain stop
shy trees sky their apples
in the night clouds
meadow mania where the crickets cry
in the south forty
roads
appearing out of misty fields
seen
when fireflies light the lanterns
of my own
even only
dream
VI
rain
today,
wind
ok,
several books un read -
"Cherry Blossom Trees"
by Christine Stenstron
"The Bluebird Effect"
by Julie Zickelfoose"
"Hiding The Universe"
poems of Wang Wei
ok,
I think I'll browse a thrift store
for a few more books
may rain tomorrow too
so they say
VII
deco glow
dial light low
on my dry cell
radio
once again
those sad songs
static for me
all night long
VIII
I walk
over the hill
prairie bunch grass
in the grey sage rustle
of remembrance
light of dusk follows
dusty footprints,
my thoughts speechless
like the bitter brush
the sky,
blue as an old bottle,
spreads the evening
birdless
on my sad lament
the farm has died,
a cabin door of wishes
on the burnt earth
homeless
I lean a moment
on a fence post,
then follow the ruts of plows
to the other side
of a fallow dream
IX
folding its eye shut
over the day
the robed sun
leaves a red sky behind
and purples the round end
of the air,
as night curtains
the peel of dusk
I might stay warm here
in a blue scarf
of milky moons,
my voice sowing the wind
with song
I am at piece
with this music,
some one thing remembered
from another
glow
X
key evicts
afternoon silence
from the vacancy
the room,
peeks out a window
open
to the city,
bleached and scoured
by the drywall light
something is missing
like a fresh bouquet
of red roses
or
the un straight picture
of a dimpled cheek
my renting footsteps
are like someone else's
following,
my hearing intent
on some one thing
at distance
like a faint breath filling
the cornered room
I feel a loneliness
in the scent of lilacs
the red fermenting
of apples
night
soon settles in
buttoning doors an windows
I leave the walls
un rented
with a dead moth mooning
in the drywall light
then
I loved
the sun
bluebells sounding below
sang low
through the green meadow
I played
at the river's
edge
sweet leaf-stem
in my mouth
and the wind swept by
in a rain cloud
tasting of earth and sky
then dipping
over the hills
sunshine
gypsy of joy,
time slipping away
I ran through the fields
like a boy
II
sky
an old friend
blue
I followed
it
to
a green-banked river
with a cottonwood
view
but sky
has turned to grey
its sailor blue
has gone
and my old friend
will never have that hue
again
III
oh
what glitter
burning and streaming
in the magic night!
my eyes twinkle
in the river-glare,
mountains tolling
like cathedrals,
icy wind
on far pavilions,
snowy gatherings
on white bells,
pulse of night
in winter shells
IV
birth has no memory
I've been cheated
not to remember the womb
to have no vision
of candle light
or faces in the room
not to recall
a patch of blue
from the look in my mother's eyes
to have held my hand
in my father's hand
and witness his surprise
to have come this way
but only once
and denied this small reward
just to remember
the waiting crowd
and how the heaven's roared
V
moon rays murmur
on the screen door
a whinny-moo of sounds
sniff the bolt
drops of blue mist
on the wind-chain stop
shy trees sky their apples
in the night clouds
meadow mania where the crickets cry
in the south forty
roads
appearing out of misty fields
seen
when fireflies light the lanterns
of my own
even only
dream
VI
rain
today,
wind
ok,
several books un read -
"Cherry Blossom Trees"
by Christine Stenstron
"The Bluebird Effect"
by Julie Zickelfoose"
"Hiding The Universe"
poems of Wang Wei
ok,
I think I'll browse a thrift store
for a few more books
may rain tomorrow too
so they say
VII
deco glow
dial light low
on my dry cell
radio
once again
those sad songs
static for me
all night long
VIII
I walk
over the hill
prairie bunch grass
in the grey sage rustle
of remembrance
light of dusk follows
dusty footprints,
my thoughts speechless
like the bitter brush
the sky,
blue as an old bottle,
spreads the evening
birdless
on my sad lament
the farm has died,
a cabin door of wishes
on the burnt earth
homeless
I lean a moment
on a fence post,
then follow the ruts of plows
to the other side
of a fallow dream
IX
folding its eye shut
over the day
the robed sun
leaves a red sky behind
and purples the round end
of the air,
as night curtains
the peel of dusk
I might stay warm here
in a blue scarf
of milky moons,
my voice sowing the wind
with song
I am at piece
with this music,
some one thing remembered
from another
glow
X
key evicts
afternoon silence
from the vacancy
the room,
peeks out a window
open
to the city,
bleached and scoured
by the drywall light
something is missing
like a fresh bouquet
of red roses
or
the un straight picture
of a dimpled cheek
my renting footsteps
are like someone else's
following,
my hearing intent
on some one thing
at distance
like a faint breath filling
the cornered room
I feel a loneliness
in the scent of lilacs
the red fermenting
of apples
night
soon settles in
buttoning doors an windows
I leave the walls
un rented
with a dead moth mooning
in the drywall light
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