#AmericanWriters
Owl calls, pollen dust blows Swirl of light strokes writhing knot-tying light paths,
It comes blundering over the Boulders at night, it stays Frightened outside the Range of my campfire I go to meet it at the
Beat-up datsun idling in the road shreds of fog almost-vertical hillsides drop awa… huge stumps fading into mist soft warm rain
Washing Kai in the sauna, The kerosene lantern set on a box outside the ground-level window, Lights up the edge of the iron sto… washtub down on the slab
Izanami gave birth to rocks, trees, rivers… and last, a blazing child so burned she died. In the land of darkness
The sour smell, blue stain, water squirts out round the wedge, Lifting quarters of rounds covered with ants,
Hammering a dent out of a bucket a woodpecker answers from the woods
He crawls to the edge of the foami… He backs up the slab ledge He puts a finger in the water He turns to a trapped pool Puts both hands in the water
Every tan rolling meadow will turn… Freeways are clogged all day Academies packed with scholars wri… City people lean and dark This land most real
One granite ridge A tree, would be enough Or even a rock, a small creek, A bark shred in a pool. Hill beyond hill, folded and twist…
I’m wondering where you are now Married, or mad, or free: Wherever you are you’re likely gla… But memory troubles me. We could’ve had us children,
A few light flakes of snow Fall in the feeble sun; Birds sing in the cold, A warbler by the wall. The plum Buds tight and chill soon bloom.
“O hell, what do mine eyes with grief behold?” Working with an old Singlejack miner, who can sense The vein and cleavage
Ah to be alive on a mid-September morn fording a stream barefoot, pants rolled up, holding boots, pack on,
One afternoon the last week in Ap… Showing Kai how to throw a hatche… One-half turn and it sticks in a s… He recalls the hatchet-head Without a handle, in the shop