(Reprinted from Exquisite Corpse.) |
1. |
Storm over the Rockies,
drop solo out of sawblade
clouds on I-70
mtns cut to
mesas
Buffalo Bill's buried still
atop Lookout Mtn, but
grave's gone into this tundra
of rain.
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* * *
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2. |
Guy says: a mesa's wider
than it is tall; a butte's
taller than it is
wide. You
squeeze another 35 cents
unleaded into the tank.
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|
* * *
|
3. |
Gray thief fog
sneaks through Grand Junction,
tucks weedy lots
into its sack, even rabbits
feel safe
from the falcon. |
|
* * *
|
4. |
Last night
a cricket said
Nerdua, Neruda, Neruda.
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|
* * *
|
5. |
Trucks
dive
into
snow
squalls:
pale
paler
gone. |
|
* * *
|
6. |
Winter wheat
stalks bend: red
bows fiddle sky. |
|
* * *
|
7. |
Crows
on that telephone line: restless necklace black laughing
pearls. |
|
* * *
|
8. |
Magpie
pecking a snowbank:
poemless page &
spilled inkwell. |
|
* * *
|
9. |
Green River.
Fog shreds
in wind:
a pine steps forward,
and another. |
|
* * *
|
10. |
rust
car wreck
rattlegrass
clover
burrheads
dog bones
bottleglass
lizard
here's a poem:
pumpjacks. |