OFF TO SCHOOL
They sent me off to school today
round-roofed lunchpail packed
with all five stages of grief
Four layer sandwich of
denial
anger
bargaining
and depression
and an apple of acceptance
I don’t think I’ll eat the apple
Category: Nostalgia
CHILDREN HAVE
CHILDREN HAVE
Children have a great sense of smell
Maybe that’s why
their diapers make them cry
their first
breast sends them
on a lifelong quest
and a cinnamon bun
can stop us all in the mall
On a farm there’s hay
before it goes into the cow
and hay when it comes out
The pungency of pig, the foul of fowl
Rain before the first drop falls
and the whip of lightning after it cracks
Smoke on dad’s clothes from the prairie fire
snuff from the round box cutting his shirt
The dog, even wet, not diminished in love
If lost in a blizzard, or in the dark
it is always best to let go of the reins
so the horse’s nose can point you home
Lost in the world at four a.m.
twice blessed if yours can do the same
ONCE MORE ROUND THE MAYPOLE
ONCE MORE ROUND THE MAYPOLE
In leisure he revisits
things seen but never noticed in his youth
though they lay but a short arms length away
Cow with ingrown horn
then a saw-wire from repair
now metaphor for defense gone wrong
The deep snow forts of play
two Fahrenheit degrees away
from smother and a crying mother
Frost on a winter window
a forest of trees of finest lace
meant too cold to go outside today
now the music of the spheres in form
Best not to be a poet young
very little would get done
BALL LIGHTNING
BALL LIGHTNING
In the front door out the back
A ball of lightning through the barn
in the story dad would tell
I wonder now if the light was white
and if it made a sizzling sound
as some who’ve seen one have described
All happened in a blink I guess, and gone,
like this, and all the questions that I didn’t ask
LITTLE BROWN JUG
LITTLE BROWN JUG
My father had three sons
and taught them all
how to tie a grain sack, how to cut a calf
how to talk to a horse you walked up behind
so you wouldn’t get kicked or killed
Good things to know
but none of us are working cattle now
He played a mean harmonica
would that he would have taught us that
ROUND TABLES
ROUND TABLES
He loved his neighbors, but not out loud
(Only by default could we tell if he was proud
men did not hug their friends or children then)
There were no women in the bar
and all the tables round and small
heavy with ashtray and pilsner draft
where they talked code till closing time
Politics of any stripe meant you are my brother
The weather, whatever the weather
meant I love you too
PERSPECTIVE
PERSPECTIVE
The ibis of OZ
has a very funny schnoz
Yet other ibises it seems
see long crooked noses in their dreams
REMEMBERING VALDY
REMEMBERING VALDY
Play me a rock and roll song
or don’t play me no song at all
I might not remember your name
but I know you’re a friend all the same
when you put the needle down
on that record by the bed
Everything that still moves moves
and memories come flooding back
Girls and cars and beer
as every year becomes that year
Thank you dear
HOW MANY PINS ON THE HEAD OF AN ANGEL
HOW MANY PINS ON THE HEAD OF AN ANGEL
Twenty after midnight and up alone
sharing every Christmas past
with the angel of Austin present
alight on the well lit tree
Telling her of the first thin pine
strung with popcorn and candles clipped
back on the ranch before the power
Every crackle of every log
every crinkle of tissue torn
every child’s first Christmas
and every parent’s last
and every cousin and uncle and aunt
no longer as they say extant
Praying her to spread
her wings and wonder wide
that we may gather them all by dawn
MEMORY LANES
MEMORY LANES
Once again in summer
where prairie blacktop ribbons
over Saskatchewan’s slow rolling hills
past grazing cow and half grown grain
driving on the road I helped to build
back when I was eighteen teen
five hundred years and yesterday ago
hauling asphalt to the spreader
in a truck hot dirty and mean
and eating steak for breakfast
with men of tar and grit
Still with a smile
each time we pass
a road crew at their work
The odor, odious
to you and almost all,
as sweet to me as youth
and lilac in the wind