“Before the Prelude,” “Night Storm,” and “The Geology of Human Nature”
I walk along hollow road,
rabid raccoons to the west
in delirium tremens one dies at
our barn door
twitching and grimacing,
black bears starve to the south
on age-old migratory trails
ravage neighbors’ kitchens
rabid raccoons to the west
in delirium tremens one dies at
our barn door
twitching and grimacing,
black bears starve to the south
on age-old migratory trails
ravage neighbors’ kitchens
“Kane Ranch,” “LA” and “With Holly in the West Village”
migrants call, no formality of naming, their ox or mule pulled wagons
“schooners”
little more than buckboards with front plank bench
hand-pulled brake no suspension
wood wheels wood spokes rusting iron rims
sun shield metal-ribbed white canvas hoods
ceaseless wind shakes
“Lucknow,” “The Plymouth Inn” and “North of the Presidentials”
My cousins and I bunk in the impromptu nursery
cribs crowded together with a sewing machine
and drapery fabrics and unfinished curtains
near the sunset bedroom originally Olive Plant’s,
across from the Roosevelt room and the guest bath
white porcelain tile, needle surround shower, fixtures of brass.
cribs crowded together with a sewing machine
and drapery fabrics and unfinished curtains
near the sunset bedroom originally Olive Plant’s,
across from the Roosevelt room and the guest bath
white porcelain tile, needle surround shower, fixtures of brass.