Monday, July 23, 2007

The Hunt

We have our feed, our carcass. We were strong
a billion hunts back, we were hard won,
now we are stronger than gods, every bulk
of grocery is a bludgeoned mammoth.
We barely move a limb to fill a bag.
Slam down the trunk door. The car is full.
There is no room for this one. We strap it
(buck naked) to the roof-rack. We're all set.
She stares at the never-changing blue sky,
her eyes tear-red, her lungs dry and weary,
her spine pressed on painted metal, her back
thrums with the bass of the engine, echoes
of her vain screaming trail the exhaust pipe.
We drag her past yet another Wal Mart.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Shenandoah Valley

I never know what to do with a view.
For some it's poetry or abstract art,
for me it's a view. I try and summon
a sense of the wonder of landscape.
Nope. There is a carpet of trees. I jump
and they muzzle me, give, and release me,
like the loop of a high dive rewound,
I rebound, land lightly on my feet again.
They are broccoli, but that's not allowed:
where is the grandeur in vegetables?
(In Golden Door, the peasants are fooled
by the promise of collosal onions.)
Then: the sound of a leaf,
___________________a billion more,
and there the smallest sound I ever saw.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


"People here, they yell all hysterical
-like, like a zombie at the coroner's.
Y'all look like the circus, you foreigners.
To pledge allegiance to America
snap a graham cracker. Sharpen a stick.
Elect a marshmallow. Inaugurate
until it's bubbling ugly. Squish it.
Use Hershey's chocolate. You will be sick.
Just kidding. Y'all might want to leave this town.
To do this, get a tattoo. Drive around.
Grab a beer. Go to the yard with the flag.
Lie down, light a cigarette, take a drag,
and greet the stars as they appear. One, two...
Fifty-one, fifty-two... White upon blue"