Poet’s Complaint

A murder of crows is all about meI cannot think my way through the mutterOf their wings. They sitHunched half in flight amongst the treesOutside my window. They wing overMy car on every road. My grandfatherHad a crow carved in the top of his cane –Its eye watched me grow up from between his fat …

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Concerning Endings

                     IPoliceman-car waits in the tall grass between directions, coils thrummingremains of a fresh kill nearbymangled deer and crumpled hoodyellow lights signaling distressattract its attention; purring, itwinds its way across the highwayflashing blue ears pricked:authorized vehicles only...Authorized vehicles only, on the next hilla convocation of tractors,low and …

The Society

you were there and you rememberhow it was: that high room with the tall chairsand bar and open windowsshe was there: standing at the window,taken by the sunset's glory.when night settled in velvet folds she would be ours;'til then she was just a small soft smile, a murmured reply,a curve of close-cropped head, a sip …

Fieldlight

Was it only a puddleA puddle in the wheel-rut,In the gutter by the waysideThat fired back my lantern-light like a retortAnd my own quavering faceLike an accusation, “There goes a boy”“A useless, silly creature”Were they only wheel-rutsMimicking the furrowed shoulders of a bare-backed farmerWho stoops to clear the path of his plowUpon the spine of …

Dusktime Driving

Minds have moved like long-legged flies upon silence;mine soars against the singeing, screaming, smoking chords that arevying with the headwind to fray the spider-strands spun across my open window, whileinexorably behind me come the endless windings and doublings of glimmer-pale and twinkling-yellow like the glowworm, hero’s-bane.The sky ahead is slashed with cloud I spin a meditative egg-sac …

Time, Tolstoy, and Two Irish Poets

Published at http://www.firstprinciplesjournal.com/print.aspx?article=1121&loc=b&type=cbbpEnjoy!