50 bicycles — a peloton, Mike says —
pedal too slowly for the cars.
The man whose helmet says Speedy
drives his hand-built 3-wheeler
past roadside shrines, faded red flags.
Rios (rivers) muddy brown
redesign the river beds.
Dark cloud, light cloud, blue patches
shadow policemen at checkpoints.
Passing bicycles, Mike is the 5th of 5
cars. A truck approaches, car 4 bails
to the left shoulder, Mike accelerates
past the Argentino (flashing brights)
& cuts in front of el auto de
la policia leading the peloton.
Ripe tobacco yellows on trucks
next to steam oozing from drying sheds.
Pomegranates ripen on trees.
3 loros (parrots) tip from a high wire.
A dead dog dreams of heaven.
Trabajadores (workers) wield
machetes & long-handled scythes.
1 trabajador swings 1 machete
in each hand. 2 machetes flash
from opposite sides of a hedge.
Dogs conduct men in boots & hats
on caballos past cardones (cactus)
& detours. Halfway across the road
rocks fall from raw red hillsides.
Cardones rise like cartoon cardones.
Black & white cows in the road,
hundreds of goats corralled
& free, 3 burros, 1 large brown pig.
Later 2 horses & 1 burro.
In Ginny’s backyard, a sheep.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, April 24, 2010
a poem about houses
The House
Mud put
upon mud,
lifted to make room,
house
a cave,
and
colder night.
To sleep
in, live in,
to come in
from heat,
all form derived
from kind,
built
with that in mind.
Robert Creeley
Mud put
upon mud,
lifted to make room,
house
a cave,
and
colder night.
To sleep
in, live in,
to come in
from heat,
all form derived
from kind,
built
with that in mind.
Robert Creeley
Friday, April 9, 2010
on the road to Tucumán
Loros & a Zorro
Parrots on wire, on wing
above a ginger fox
— a calico ginger
the feathered ears & eyes
so like a cat —
at the side of the road
ears & eyes & nose
even motionless feathers
sensing all that moves
whiskers, a black
nose & white-tipped
snout, surrounded by
a dozen shades of ginger.
White-tipped black
feathers spell gray.
What if every prey
colored its killer — mouse
& mole & careless parrot
& caterpillar & lizard
& bumblebee that stings
the lips when swallowed.
What sweet & sour
stingingest, numbingest flavor
would we tongue & swallow?
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