Tag Archives: Danger


No one will be surprised by the report
that farming is a very dangerous sport

What flapping empty fingered gloves
point back to momentary lapses

What limbs with what power
have been taken off by
power take offs

What tendons snapped like glass
and bones cut clean as grass
by unthinking mowers

And what of those neighbours dead and true
who for a minute forgetting what they knew
through red machines combined
with their grain

All these have earned his dusty tear
and many a “who’s next” fear

Year after year, after year, after year

And yet deep in the soils of time
the seeds of his goodness are growing
while the world turns in slow seasons
and he will be ready
when at last they declare
a true war on poverty
and are willing to bomb with wheat



The armadillo lies
in the center of the road
with his feet in the air

The shell on his back
for centuries over used
caused the spine in his neck
to become somewhat fused

So that when he hears
that danger is near
he has to leap and turn
to cover his rear

And if that sound is the front of a car
he leaps into a sudden marriage
of armadillo and undercarriage

So he lays on his back and he waves his feet
a warning to travellers from far and near
about the many dangers of old fear

and old ways of dealing with it



Carl Walenda used to say

He only felt alive
when walking the high wire
everything else was just waiting

Some rodeo cowboys feel the same way
for eight seconds on a good day

One day in South America
Carl Walenda checked his tie downs
something he never did

He went up on the wire anyway
and he fell

After all those years of butterflies
it’s hard to tell

which is the black one