ROAD TRIP
There is a stretch
in the long loping hills of Montana
where the laws of speed and time are not enforced
Where over every hill there’s another hill
that far to the bottom
and that far up the other side
A-sail, a-sail on an earth-rocked ship
two thousand feet above an ancient sea
Wheels endlessly humming
to the radio’s timeless tunes
Suspended forever midway
between those you’re running to
and those you’re running from
DIRECTIONS TO LOS NOVIOS RANCH
for Claire and George
A hundred miles south of San Antone
Los Novios means The Sweethearts
They had Brahmas in the pasture
they had a gator in the pond
They got big Blue Indigo snakes
there to eat them pesky rattlers
Though mesquite may be as close
as you get to a sweetheart tree
The roadrunner on the woodpile
is all puffed up and singing
Hey girls, look at me
LUNCH COUNTER TRANSFERENCE
Sitting across from Robin
As lovely and graceful a dancer
as every you’d want to see
and highly over-valued
by a two-left-footer like me
What a pleasant surprise
through the golden shadows to see
that she likewise over-values
those who write poetry
GUNFIGHT AT THE YOU’RE OKAY CORRAL
Reactions are
quicker than actions
Which is why
all else being equal
the one who draws first loses
A good thing to remember
before you say the thing
you always say
that starts it all again
PICKING ON THE BANJO
When I pick on a banjo
it’s like a bully pickin’ on you
for your lunch money
In high school I tortured a trumpet
hitting the high notes and the low
with many a glancing blow
While Johnny’s boy, damn his hide,
could pick up any instrument
Didn’t have to think or practice
or anything
the music just told him where to put his fingers
PEOPLE OF THE EARTH
People of the earth
kneeling in their gardens
all directions Mecca
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
Obama got Osama
right in the eye for an eye
time will tell if more or fewer die
THERE WAS A YOUNG POET NAMED JACK
There was a young poet named Jack
who wrote verse upon his wife’s back
It tickles she said
let’s go to the bed
And they were off to rhyme in the sack
THROUGH THE NEEDLE’S EYE
Sarah N. Cleghorn 1916
The golf links lie so near the mill
That almost every day
The laboring children can look out
And see the men at play
Update 2011
Sarah, you’ll be pleased to know
There are no such scenes today
The children laboring in the mills
Are half a world away
THE COURAGE OF MINERS
For Tiger and Benny
To go down
each day
into your
grave
And rise
at end of shift
with Lazarus-like joy
– except when
you don’t