Poetry
I loved the words, the names,when I was a boy whenhis blue eye turned meto the muscular heft of arms,Winchester and Remington,
Let your dog runsee where it goes
what it turns upwhat it brings back
a hollow yellow balla blue baby shoe
a rabbit-skin glovethe thumb torn off
a shimmering star-ling fluttering in
Kristen (my to-be bride) Peil (daughter to Loren and Annie) called me atwork (a vacated dental office complete with circular carpet stain in the chair space).
The sun rose to meet me late.Pimpled and miserable under July sheets,I had too many brothers with fistslike pistons, a mother who made meiron or dust or leave her alone:she had a headache.
It reigned in the center of the downtown square;you could use your actual feet to get there.Most often you arrived on a coffee break, orafter work when you remembered you needednew Fruit of the Loom, a Teflon pan for
quick listen to the tick of ittonight not quitetomorrow yet my friendthe time will comewhen end is endedthe light on the blackand white linoleumno longer shineswhen I am died
Molecules of our bodies only lightlybind, allow for life by not releasing,in their coupling, enough heat to burnthemselves to ashes, allow for death by easilylosing interest, and unlinking.
When I walked into the forestof camouflage, faces turned,gleaming through the leaveslike tin plates hungamongst trees for targets.
Sometime between the hen and the singing harp, Jack's mother changes hermind. Yes, the gold eggs glitter in the morning, yes, she eats off coins the size of saucers, yes, she knows tomorrow he will bring another wonder down the
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Wisconsin Academy Offices
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Madison, WI 53703
Phone: 608.733.6633 x25