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Poetry
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American Summer
Poems written while traveling.
'ho 'n Wo'
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1: Snake River Pastoral We find occasional pastures neatly fenced, neatly untended. Everywhere else sagebrush spreading above desert grasses. We see a field of hay recently cut— perfect geometry—bales awaiting baling. 2: Wind Farmers Where the desert lives, the desert remains except where the long arm of irrigation mists a low-growing crop. In the distance atop the mesas, wind farms rise into the oddly-altered landscape—big, burgeoning clouds rest above. 3: Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone A warm sun with a cold, pushy wind perfectly suits our short hike—a few moments alone at the lower falls... Returning, rising, that restrained intoxication of high country air. 4: Traveling In the subtle effort that travel demands one can find one's self weary of beautiful places—a new day, a new destination—cold and winded, climbing the overlook stairs. 5: 20 Driving on a road across a barren expanse or vast fields of excentric agriculture. Snow-capped mountains ringing the distance. Driving on a road well engineered and well maintained—going to where we want to get. 6: Craters of the Moon (after Gyozan) Nearing my 62nd year I've encountered little pain or hardship. Whether I've gained much wisdom is another story, I suppose. This I do know: earth, 4.54 billion years old; Doug, 61.72 and counting. 7: Drivin' 'round Stanley Another rainy day in June. Clouds again shrouding the Sawtooth range. Tourists rafting down the Salmon River and its rapids. Abundant wildflowers, anglers angling in the rain. 8: Yankee Creek All we knew was... his name wasn't Henry Porter. He left a wife and four girls in Brownsville to 'try his hand at prospectin'.' On his last drunken meandering, he stepped on the wrong snake and subsequently died. 9: Summer River Reverie Birdsong & bird flight, bare-chested men in a continuous breeze. Road noise & dog bark & shouts from the rafters floating... Birdsong & tirespin & quiet talk drifting. On the banks, beautiful women, their hair in... 10. Back Home on the Lower Deck Icing my elbow to soothe the tendonitis. A few yards away a doe watches the dog walker above. Another bird, a juvenile, left by my chair. The sighing windchimes sometimes tinkle—a hat floating in the Snake somewhere in Idaho. back | ToC | next » 2012
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