Saturday, September 26, 2009

O Country

O Country,
how you permeate all things.

O Country,
how your fingers work the strings.

The words I say, the ways I think,
the things I crave to eat and drink.
The brazen views on ways of life,
the one I choose to be my wife,
and oh so much more.

O Country,
is my character my own?

Or Country,
am I just one of your clones?

To fight for inches, tooth and nail,
and hope for smoothness in my sail?
To knock and sell things door-to-door
to homes that shine, where flags do soar,
or am I maybe something more?

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Summer Days at Elizabeth St


Little waddled steps
on little stumpy legs
down into the backyard
for a new adventure
already lived a hundred times before.

Carefully, carefully,
down the red concrete steps
into the pavement wilderness,
under the yellow sunny sky,
hot and sticky.

The heated air rises
all wobbly and warm
jumping up from the bricks
on to my hands that sweat and sweat
til I wipe them on my denim overalls.

Now watch me go!
The mini-Indiana Jones
hopping from brick to brick
dodging the cracks
‘cause the cracks are the traps!

Into the jungle shade,
into the darkened caves, and -
Look out!
A snapping yellow wolf!
Imprisoned in a wooden cage-

-“Watch your fingers! Don’t get too close!”-
- Rusty barks twice. –

I’ve beaten the traps,
and now for the GOLD!
I snatch it and clutch it tight
and run and run,
invisible boulders rolling at my heels.

Big Plant

The bright yellow sun is right up high
leaning on the cloud
in the middle of the sky
its long golden fingers poking at me
making me itchy and more sweaty

So I go seeking refuge
inside the clothes line,
its drippy inhabitants so cool and white
they flip and they flap about when I pull them
and SpinSpinSpin!

And then a voice cries:
And it’s time to run and hide
into the plant, quick!
Crawl inside.

Cool, wet shade and a hiding place
that smells of rubbery green.
The big leafy arms curl around to embrace,
while I brush the prickly dirt
from my hands and my knees.

The voice says: “Where is he? Where could he be?”
I stifle a giggle because they can’t see.
And the thrill and excitement
and small tiny fear
they all make me grin ‘cause
they’ll never look here!

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