The Project Gutenberg eBook ofPrussian BlueThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ****** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***Title: Prussian BlueAuthor: Paul Cameron BrownRelease date: March 5, 2010 [eBook #31514]Most recently updated: April 19, 2010Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Sorour Imani*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRUSSIAN BLUE ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ****** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***
*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ***
*** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***
Title: Prussian BlueAuthor: Paul Cameron BrownRelease date: March 5, 2010 [eBook #31514]Most recently updated: April 19, 2010Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Sorour Imani
Title: Prussian Blue
Author: Paul Cameron Brown
Author: Paul Cameron Brown
Release date: March 5, 2010 [eBook #31514]Most recently updated: April 19, 2010
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Sorour Imani
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRUSSIAN BLUE ***
Prussian BlueByPaul Cameron Brown
Prussian BlueByPaul Cameron Brown
7Not So Much8Serpentine9Lithuanian Dolls/Consulate Front10Begin And Beguile11Fire Bush12Skootematta13Animals And The Stars14And Then Some15Woodsy Backwoods Poem16Corner Store Fifties Reveille17Trout Lake Hotel18Northwoods Poem19Orange Lichens20Six Owlets21Twillingate22Bravura23Whisky Girl24High Frequency Draw (High Alert)25Red Fox (Red Horse Lake)26When I was a Much Younger Man
7Not So Much8Serpentine9Lithuanian Dolls/Consulate Front10Begin And Beguile11Fire Bush12Skootematta13Animals And The Stars14And Then Some15Woodsy Backwoods Poem16Corner Store Fifties Reveille17Trout Lake Hotel18Northwoods Poem19Orange Lichens20Six Owlets21Twillingate22Bravura23Whisky Girl24High Frequency Draw (High Alert)25Red Fox (Red Horse Lake)26When I was a Much Younger Man
7Not So Much8Serpentine9Lithuanian Dolls/Consulate Front10Begin And Beguile11Fire Bush12Skootematta13Animals And The Stars14And Then Some15Woodsy Backwoods Poem16Corner Store Fifties Reveille17Trout Lake Hotel18Northwoods Poem19Orange Lichens20Six Owlets21Twillingate22Bravura23Whisky Girl24High Frequency Draw (High Alert)25Red Fox (Red Horse Lake)26When I was a Much Younger Man
Not So MuchI evaded capture todaywith only a handful of dustto escape that Old Sandman Death.Certainly, those maroon berries,so large & luscious,crowded on their fat stemshad something to do with itas did the ground fogleaving its burrow as so many boll-weevilstheir crowded nests.And there might be something to the factthe moonlight satfat & confidant in the night skyas surelyas my head rests on this pillowand the poem invites itselfinto my lair of thoughts,much as nestlings charge theentrance to the runwayof a tree.I walked flat outin an instanceas standing urineheld its own stenchand the grim splash within the ponddead center in the wildernessunderscores the tone of this warning.One thought encapsulates wonderthough suggestive evil hidesleaden leaves buried in lake muddown the corner eaves of someone'sfire hydrant mind.When you pray for someonean Angel sits on their shoulder,when that same someone hates youdoes that Angel die of grief?Serendipity is a flowerand those cloudsre-arranging the breezeharbingers of forbidden thingsnot so much like these bouldersuse hand-held scissors to open twilightand watch this fading light ebb forthtip-I-toe like a birdsqueezed thru an openingin its cage.[7]
Not So MuchI evaded capture todaywith only a handful of dustto escape that Old Sandman Death.Certainly, those maroon berries,so large & luscious,crowded on their fat stemshad something to do with itas did the ground fogleaving its burrow as so many boll-weevilstheir crowded nests.And there might be something to the factthe moonlight satfat & confidant in the night skyas surelyas my head rests on this pillowand the poem invites itselfinto my lair of thoughts,much as nestlings charge theentrance to the runwayof a tree.I walked flat outin an instanceas standing urineheld its own stenchand the grim splash within the ponddead center in the wildernessunderscores the tone of this warning.One thought encapsulates wonderthough suggestive evil hidesleaden leaves buried in lake muddown the corner eaves of someone'sfire hydrant mind.When you pray for someonean Angel sits on their shoulder,when that same someone hates youdoes that Angel die of grief?Serendipity is a flowerand those cloudsre-arranging the breezeharbingers of forbidden thingsnot so much like these bouldersuse hand-held scissors to open twilightand watch this fading light ebb forthtip-I-toe like a birdsqueezed thru an openingin its cage.[7]
I evaded capture todaywith only a handful of dustto escape that Old Sandman Death.Certainly, those maroon berries,so large & luscious,crowded on their fat stemshad something to do with itas did the ground fogleaving its burrow as so many boll-weevilstheir crowded nests.And there might be something to the factthe moonlight satfat & confidant in the night skyas surelyas my head rests on this pillowand the poem invites itselfinto my lair of thoughts,much as nestlings charge theentrance to the runwayof a tree.I walked flat outin an instanceas standing urineheld its own stenchand the grim splash within the ponddead center in the wildernessunderscores the tone of this warning.One thought encapsulates wonderthough suggestive evil hidesleaden leaves buried in lake muddown the corner eaves of someone'sfire hydrant mind.When you pray for someonean Angel sits on their shoulder,when that same someone hates youdoes that Angel die of grief?Serendipity is a flowerand those cloudsre-arranging the breezeharbingers of forbidden thingsnot so much like these bouldersuse hand-held scissors to open twilightand watch this fading light ebb forthtip-I-toe like a birdsqueezed thru an openingin its cage.[7]
SerpentineMore fragment of treethan serpentclothed in wethe mirrors mebedraggled in stonecloak or so it seemsthis cavernous ledge coven.Is he witch's totemswimming at yard's lengthI can web reach himstartling darts of raincutting lagoon's edgethis sedge & eel grass dragon.[8]
SerpentineMore fragment of treethan serpentclothed in wethe mirrors mebedraggled in stonecloak or so it seemsthis cavernous ledge coven.Is he witch's totemswimming at yard's lengthI can web reach himstartling darts of raincutting lagoon's edgethis sedge & eel grass dragon.[8]
More fragment of treethan serpentclothed in wethe mirrors mebedraggled in stonecloak or so it seemsthis cavernous ledge coven.Is he witch's totemswimming at yard's lengthI can web reach himstartling darts of raincutting lagoon's edgethis sedge & eel grass dragon.[8]
Lithuanian Dolls/Consulate FrontThese eyes of dolls seem leaden stonesnot canisters of the Faithbut cannon-balls engravedin tome-like stares so muchwaxen shapes, these dust cloths& spidery webs.Dolls with eyes starelidless & forlornsuch eyes are cracksminden shapes or basement eveshogans of the human form.I'm interested in the priapicsilence of such dolls—theirindolent aura in timeone long amber twilight& the results are inthe shadows have produced twins...hazy silhouettes rough-housingin the dark, come passing headlightsalthough the stampede of noisesaffects nought.Ticker-tape & collagein quick thick barragethese lonesome dollsslouching half-pinnedin their stalls—a cat transcends crouching his spinethen pelvic thrusts and tableaux change.People are divisive, dolls less so.the dolls know nothing of that.[9]
Lithuanian Dolls/Consulate FrontThese eyes of dolls seem leaden stonesnot canisters of the Faithbut cannon-balls engravedin tome-like stares so muchwaxen shapes, these dust cloths& spidery webs.Dolls with eyes starelidless & forlornsuch eyes are cracksminden shapes or basement eveshogans of the human form.I'm interested in the priapicsilence of such dolls—theirindolent aura in timeone long amber twilight& the results are inthe shadows have produced twins...hazy silhouettes rough-housingin the dark, come passing headlightsalthough the stampede of noisesaffects nought.Ticker-tape & collagein quick thick barragethese lonesome dollsslouching half-pinnedin their stalls—a cat transcends crouching his spinethen pelvic thrusts and tableaux change.People are divisive, dolls less so.the dolls know nothing of that.[9]
These eyes of dolls seem leaden stonesnot canisters of the Faithbut cannon-balls engravedin tome-like stares so muchwaxen shapes, these dust cloths& spidery webs.Dolls with eyes starelidless & forlornsuch eyes are cracksminden shapes or basement eveshogans of the human form.I'm interested in the priapicsilence of such dolls—theirindolent aura in timeone long amber twilight& the results are inthe shadows have produced twins...hazy silhouettes rough-housingin the dark, come passing headlightsalthough the stampede of noisesaffects nought.Ticker-tape & collagein quick thick barragethese lonesome dollsslouching half-pinnedin their stalls—a cat transcends crouching his spinethen pelvic thrusts and tableaux change.People are divisive, dolls less so.the dolls know nothing of that.[9]
Begin And BeguileIf brains be gables & minds, say, the shuttersin a derelict New England Mansionthen intuition is in theeaves & casementsthe well-springs seeping into turrets & cupolasof all other nether spaces.These big, wide entrances are ourselves in all their splendor,notwithstanding the Winchester Mansionsor Vanderbilt Estates where ourvery personalities are laid baresee antics give rise to atticsfeed in onto themselveswhere the Astor's of our alter-egosare resplendent in rich pride of selflonging to manifest in lavish architectureso redolent of wealthyet see-sawing in, squabblingtheir thread-bare servant quarterswhere murderous passionsbare dingy walls and where stained,yellowing wallpaper is harbinger tofurther heart-felt quarrels &what is unspeakable, gilded and more.Manifold and many, recant and lament. Repent.[10]
Begin And BeguileIf brains be gables & minds, say, the shuttersin a derelict New England Mansionthen intuition is in theeaves & casementsthe well-springs seeping into turrets & cupolasof all other nether spaces.These big, wide entrances are ourselves in all their splendor,notwithstanding the Winchester Mansionsor Vanderbilt Estates where ourvery personalities are laid baresee antics give rise to atticsfeed in onto themselveswhere the Astor's of our alter-egosare resplendent in rich pride of selflonging to manifest in lavish architectureso redolent of wealthyet see-sawing in, squabblingtheir thread-bare servant quarterswhere murderous passionsbare dingy walls and where stained,yellowing wallpaper is harbinger tofurther heart-felt quarrels &what is unspeakable, gilded and more.Manifold and many, recant and lament. Repent.[10]
If brains be gables & minds, say, the shuttersin a derelict New England Mansionthen intuition is in theeaves & casementsthe well-springs seeping into turrets & cupolasof all other nether spaces.These big, wide entrances are ourselves in all their splendor,notwithstanding the Winchester Mansionsor Vanderbilt Estates where ourvery personalities are laid baresee antics give rise to atticsfeed in onto themselveswhere the Astor's of our alter-egosare resplendent in rich pride of selflonging to manifest in lavish architectureso redolent of wealthyet see-sawing in, squabblingtheir thread-bare servant quarterswhere murderous passionsbare dingy walls and where stained,yellowing wallpaper is harbinger tofurther heart-felt quarrels &what is unspeakable, gilded and more.Manifold and many, recant and lament. Repent.[10]
Fire BushIf flies be dragonsand they may you know.In large desiccated brambleswhere wasps goinvoluntary blue-green coelacanthsthese Devil's Darning Needleswedge in Flying Circusesframe pale diaphanous wet green skyas shooting columnstwig and Rock Face.There, fire-bushentrance scrapes paler waxgreen fronds thenBlue Holes into canopiesthru the stars.[11]
Fire BushIf flies be dragonsand they may you know.In large desiccated brambleswhere wasps goinvoluntary blue-green coelacanthsthese Devil's Darning Needleswedge in Flying Circusesframe pale diaphanous wet green skyas shooting columnstwig and Rock Face.There, fire-bushentrance scrapes paler waxgreen fronds thenBlue Holes into canopiesthru the stars.[11]
If flies be dragonsand they may you know.In large desiccated brambleswhere wasps goinvoluntary blue-green coelacanthsthese Devil's Darning Needleswedge in Flying Circusesframe pale diaphanous wet green skyas shooting columnstwig and Rock Face.There, fire-bushentrance scrapes paler waxgreen fronds thenBlue Holes into canopiesthru the stars.[11]
SkootemattaSheldrake, a magician—the mandrakea mythic plant whose shriekdrove listeners wild....this lake, Sheldrakeand its windsong-heartswooncounterpart, Skootemattawith Shabomeka &a whiff of Buckshot Lake to boot,waves lapping theprayerful stones—water's edgethe earth's bones....Lakes an art-formhardscrabble scribbleshorthand on a blessed land.The mysticism of basic shadows,occult shapes of ourselves.[12]
SkootemattaSheldrake, a magician—the mandrakea mythic plant whose shriekdrove listeners wild....this lake, Sheldrakeand its windsong-heartswooncounterpart, Skootemattawith Shabomeka &a whiff of Buckshot Lake to boot,waves lapping theprayerful stones—water's edgethe earth's bones....Lakes an art-formhardscrabble scribbleshorthand on a blessed land.The mysticism of basic shadows,occult shapes of ourselves.[12]
Sheldrake, a magician—the mandrakea mythic plant whose shriekdrove listeners wild....this lake, Sheldrakeand its windsong-heartswooncounterpart, Skootemattawith Shabomeka &a whiff of Buckshot Lake to boot,waves lapping theprayerful stones—water's edgethe earth's bones....Lakes an art-formhardscrabble scribbleshorthand on a blessed land.The mysticism of basic shadows,occult shapes of ourselves.[12]
Animals And The StarsCrickets are a strange place,cricks of dew hemmedwith hoar-frostmushrooming by a door.The glens are fashions of a loomeerie padsare nightly rooms.The padlocksremove the keyas grass-hopperskeep the meadow free.A twilight worldalong the edgeat rapier's lengththis light, this pointat end of the void.[13]
Animals And The StarsCrickets are a strange place,cricks of dew hemmedwith hoar-frostmushrooming by a door.The glens are fashions of a loomeerie padsare nightly rooms.The padlocksremove the keyas grass-hopperskeep the meadow free.A twilight worldalong the edgeat rapier's lengththis light, this pointat end of the void.[13]
Crickets are a strange place,cricks of dew hemmedwith hoar-frostmushrooming by a door.The glens are fashions of a loomeerie padsare nightly rooms.The padlocksremove the keyas grass-hopperskeep the meadow free.A twilight worldalong the edgeat rapier's lengththis light, this pointat end of the void.[13]
And Then SomeThe anger pastas a cat arches her backa thickly rich robust angerblackest coffee in a thickearthen mugthis thug & mugger with sufficientsilk thread.Yet the assassin is backwith catcalls & hisscortisol adrenalin thatlunge like that catrapid-fire along the back garden fencethis patio strollmy senses black.And time luxuriating like a thick veil.That dread pack withanger in the lead—what prevokes it—obviously reallya pack of violentrunning lies—wolveshell-bent running overintent on deceit,thievery, then some.A narrative with a long reach.[14]
And Then SomeThe anger pastas a cat arches her backa thickly rich robust angerblackest coffee in a thickearthen mugthis thug & mugger with sufficientsilk thread.Yet the assassin is backwith catcalls & hisscortisol adrenalin thatlunge like that catrapid-fire along the back garden fencethis patio strollmy senses black.And time luxuriating like a thick veil.That dread pack withanger in the lead—what prevokes it—obviously reallya pack of violentrunning lies—wolveshell-bent running overintent on deceit,thievery, then some.A narrative with a long reach.[14]
The anger pastas a cat arches her backa thickly rich robust angerblackest coffee in a thickearthen mugthis thug & mugger with sufficientsilk thread.Yet the assassin is backwith catcalls & hisscortisol adrenalin thatlunge like that catrapid-fire along the back garden fencethis patio strollmy senses black.And time luxuriating like a thick veil.That dread pack withanger in the lead—what prevokes it—obviously reallya pack of violentrunning lies—wolveshell-bent running overintent on deceit,thievery, then some.A narrative with a long reach.[14]
Woodsy Backwoods PoemI saw Bearshopping with Santa Clausat the North of 7 Plazaonly he wasn't wearing a bib—only a cotton-wool imitation syntheticpolystyrene white fluffy instead.I saw the Beargracing a wall at theOld Trout Lake Hotel(part-time job),looking self-satisfied,smug back of the Mosque Lake Roadbut a self-starter, no less,lacking the wherewithal, nonetheless,to be a serious shit-disturberaccolades & kudos aside, stillcircus Work is hard &good dancing difficult to come by,poor dish of custard, sticky stuffed bastard.yet the pay-off beginswhen Bear gets homewith only grubs in the bankand maggots to showfor his life's work, alas,no fireworks for freein the big grin as you den,leaf-off frenzywitch begins Octobermonth of orange zenzip up only can ya please.[15]
Woodsy Backwoods PoemI saw Bearshopping with Santa Clausat the North of 7 Plazaonly he wasn't wearing a bib—only a cotton-wool imitation syntheticpolystyrene white fluffy instead.I saw the Beargracing a wall at theOld Trout Lake Hotel(part-time job),looking self-satisfied,smug back of the Mosque Lake Roadbut a self-starter, no less,lacking the wherewithal, nonetheless,to be a serious shit-disturberaccolades & kudos aside, stillcircus Work is hard &good dancing difficult to come by,poor dish of custard, sticky stuffed bastard.yet the pay-off beginswhen Bear gets homewith only grubs in the bankand maggots to showfor his life's work, alas,no fireworks for freein the big grin as you den,leaf-off frenzywitch begins Octobermonth of orange zenzip up only can ya please.[15]
I saw Bearshopping with Santa Clausat the North of 7 Plazaonly he wasn't wearing a bib—only a cotton-wool imitation syntheticpolystyrene white fluffy instead.I saw the Beargracing a wall at theOld Trout Lake Hotel(part-time job),looking self-satisfied,smug back of the Mosque Lake Roadbut a self-starter, no less,lacking the wherewithal, nonetheless,to be a serious shit-disturberaccolades & kudos aside, stillcircus Work is hard &good dancing difficult to come by,poor dish of custard, sticky stuffed bastard.yet the pay-off beginswhen Bear gets homewith only grubs in the bankand maggots to showfor his life's work, alas,no fireworks for freein the big grin as you den,leaf-off frenzywitch begins Octobermonth of orange zenzip up only can ya please.[15]
Corner Store Fifties ReveilleI met Bear at the 5 n' dimesipping a Cream Sodahe was voluble &needed to talk..."I got a shit-load on my mind,"mumbling something about somerun-in with a Mountie—tamperingwith Crown Evidence, the purloined Honey Jar,in question, Jimmy Dean was there, too,polishing his coolness though he wouldhave his own Run-In later in the evening.As Marilyn had left,I decided to forgo Bear's company,still slurping his Soda &crying into the bubbles,some things never change.[16]
Corner Store Fifties ReveilleI met Bear at the 5 n' dimesipping a Cream Sodahe was voluble &needed to talk..."I got a shit-load on my mind,"mumbling something about somerun-in with a Mountie—tamperingwith Crown Evidence, the purloined Honey Jar,in question, Jimmy Dean was there, too,polishing his coolness though he wouldhave his own Run-In later in the evening.As Marilyn had left,I decided to forgo Bear's company,still slurping his Soda &crying into the bubbles,some things never change.[16]
I met Bear at the 5 n' dimesipping a Cream Sodahe was voluble &needed to talk..."I got a shit-load on my mind,"mumbling something about somerun-in with a Mountie—tamperingwith Crown Evidence, the purloined Honey Jar,in question, Jimmy Dean was there, too,polishing his coolness though he wouldhave his own Run-In later in the evening.As Marilyn had left,I decided to forgo Bear's company,still slurping his Soda &crying into the bubbles,some things never change.[16]
Trout Lake HotelThe walls don't lack sincerity, here,or be accused of "ordinary,"what with the bleached remainsof a carbon skull, a yellowing pike headof uncertain girth, adder-like fangspositioned like the Bear Headgasping for the night airone wall over orthe old pool tablethat's seen as many gamesas ghosts fly by or drinks downedin the penumbra Shootersflaming elixir stars,a shooting gallery of exotica and potent portions—crimson Garter, Pink Panties,the men in this lounge live up to thatwith cigarettes bullying the air, chortles,one doesn't expect to see southern good ole boysin the North Backwoods with no 'gatorsor Biloxi Blues but a gallows to good intentions,nonetheless.[17]
Trout Lake HotelThe walls don't lack sincerity, here,or be accused of "ordinary,"what with the bleached remainsof a carbon skull, a yellowing pike headof uncertain girth, adder-like fangspositioned like the Bear Headgasping for the night airone wall over orthe old pool tablethat's seen as many gamesas ghosts fly by or drinks downedin the penumbra Shootersflaming elixir stars,a shooting gallery of exotica and potent portions—crimson Garter, Pink Panties,the men in this lounge live up to thatwith cigarettes bullying the air, chortles,one doesn't expect to see southern good ole boysin the North Backwoods with no 'gatorsor Biloxi Blues but a gallows to good intentions,nonetheless.[17]
The walls don't lack sincerity, here,or be accused of "ordinary,"what with the bleached remainsof a carbon skull, a yellowing pike headof uncertain girth, adder-like fangspositioned like the Bear Headgasping for the night airone wall over orthe old pool tablethat's seen as many gamesas ghosts fly by or drinks downedin the penumbra Shootersflaming elixir stars,a shooting gallery of exotica and potent portions—crimson Garter, Pink Panties,the men in this lounge live up to thatwith cigarettes bullying the air, chortles,one doesn't expect to see southern good ole boysin the North Backwoods with no 'gatorsor Biloxi Blues but a gallows to good intentions,nonetheless.[17]
Northwoods PoemWatermelon,ears of skeletonwet nose with marshmallowI saw the Bear leaning onSanta for a favor.IIHere's Bear, week's growth of beard,long bushy eyebrowsstill reeking of ginapparently wanted the penny-strapped Claus'to dump Rudolph,spray-paint his coat whiteuse Bear's fleshy drinker's noseto lead the sleighthat crazy night.IIIA tiff eruptedRudolph almost lost itsanta ended paying Hibernation feesthough Bear grumbled he wasn'tbedding Next to no knot of worms garter snakes.[18]
Northwoods PoemWatermelon,ears of skeletonwet nose with marshmallowI saw the Bear leaning onSanta for a favor.IIHere's Bear, week's growth of beard,long bushy eyebrowsstill reeking of ginapparently wanted the penny-strapped Claus'to dump Rudolph,spray-paint his coat whiteuse Bear's fleshy drinker's noseto lead the sleighthat crazy night.IIIA tiff eruptedRudolph almost lost itsanta ended paying Hibernation feesthough Bear grumbled he wasn'tbedding Next to no knot of worms garter snakes.[18]
Watermelon,ears of skeletonwet nose with marshmallowI saw the Bear leaning onSanta for a favor.IIHere's Bear, week's growth of beard,long bushy eyebrowsstill reeking of ginapparently wanted the penny-strapped Claus'to dump Rudolph,spray-paint his coat whiteuse Bear's fleshy drinker's noseto lead the sleighthat crazy night.IIIA tiff eruptedRudolph almost lost itsanta ended paying Hibernation feesthough Bear grumbled he wasn'tbedding Next to no knot of worms garter snakes.[18]
Orange LichensOrange lichens, in sun-like clusters,entomb the Rockface walla sheer ascent from the waterlineinto glassy viscous green—-the plummet from skywardto lake facepasses breathless squadronsof Dragon Flies—devil's Darning Needlesthreading the airwhere Wolf Spidersbivouac in web-castles,thin Draculas to their insect hosteach hairy mantle blackwith burrow moats at high watermark;yet unforeseen are the funnel lairsfor bull snakeseach water thrashergracing the rotund, behemoth Rocklunging like a SSpirit Presence upfrom this watery chalice.[19]
Orange LichensOrange lichens, in sun-like clusters,entomb the Rockface walla sheer ascent from the waterlineinto glassy viscous green—-the plummet from skywardto lake facepasses breathless squadronsof Dragon Flies—devil's Darning Needlesthreading the airwhere Wolf Spidersbivouac in web-castles,thin Draculas to their insect hosteach hairy mantle blackwith burrow moats at high watermark;yet unforeseen are the funnel lairsfor bull snakeseach water thrashergracing the rotund, behemoth Rocklunging like a SSpirit Presence upfrom this watery chalice.[19]
Orange lichens, in sun-like clusters,entomb the Rockface walla sheer ascent from the waterlineinto glassy viscous green—-the plummet from skywardto lake facepasses breathless squadronsof Dragon Flies—devil's Darning Needlesthreading the airwhere Wolf Spidersbivouac in web-castles,thin Draculas to their insect hosteach hairy mantle blackwith burrow moats at high watermark;yet unforeseen are the funnel lairsfor bull snakeseach water thrashergracing the rotund, behemoth Rocklunging like a SSpirit Presence upfrom this watery chalice.[19]
Six OwletsSix owlets sitting in a tree,six cats in effigy,six of both in a boatthe leeward lives in Innisfree.Six women marchingthrough a park,six lanterns at restsix cauldrons tosix walking abreast.In the still of the morningI'd hazard a guessthere's a little less.[20]
Six OwletsSix owlets sitting in a tree,six cats in effigy,six of both in a boatthe leeward lives in Innisfree.Six women marchingthrough a park,six lanterns at restsix cauldrons tosix walking abreast.In the still of the morningI'd hazard a guessthere's a little less.[20]
Six owlets sitting in a tree,six cats in effigy,six of both in a boatthe leeward lives in Innisfree.Six women marchingthrough a park,six lanterns at restsix cauldrons tosix walking abreast.In the still of the morningI'd hazard a guessthere's a little less.[20]
TwillingateWe all end up badly andit's not the season nor the saltrather, I suspect but type of gherkin used.We all end, badly, at leastthe more modest of us do.the old salts they dine onlimericks anyways.We all end up, sadly, the distancesand the wiles only last up,sideways, and barely withthe edge-ways of a smile.Some of us, sadly,limit our lossescall off the possequit deals, thequicksilver steals.Some of us, gladly,surrender or catcha slow boat to Twillingate,if not willingly,at least painstakingly.[21]
TwillingateWe all end up badly andit's not the season nor the saltrather, I suspect but type of gherkin used.We all end, badly, at leastthe more modest of us do.the old salts they dine onlimericks anyways.We all end up, sadly, the distancesand the wiles only last up,sideways, and barely withthe edge-ways of a smile.Some of us, sadly,limit our lossescall off the possequit deals, thequicksilver steals.Some of us, gladly,surrender or catcha slow boat to Twillingate,if not willingly,at least painstakingly.[21]
We all end up badly andit's not the season nor the saltrather, I suspect but type of gherkin used.We all end, badly, at leastthe more modest of us do.the old salts they dine onlimericks anyways.We all end up, sadly, the distancesand the wiles only last up,sideways, and barely withthe edge-ways of a smile.Some of us, sadly,limit our lossescall off the possequit deals, thequicksilver steals.Some of us, gladly,surrender or catcha slow boat to Twillingate,if not willingly,at least painstakingly.[21]
BravuraMemory as embankment,a mudslide at High Tidewith shades up...my avocado green brethrenpleasures the soil.Memory as enchantmenta Belle at a Soiree,pureed, Gaston at a Dinner Party.Napanee suggests sympathy,a serendipity...as water winders its wayto clay in a moonlightturn of the bottle,I shall find a way.that's ironclad.[22]
BravuraMemory as embankment,a mudslide at High Tidewith shades up...my avocado green brethrenpleasures the soil.Memory as enchantmenta Belle at a Soiree,pureed, Gaston at a Dinner Party.Napanee suggests sympathy,a serendipity...as water winders its wayto clay in a moonlightturn of the bottle,I shall find a way.that's ironclad.[22]
Memory as embankment,a mudslide at High Tidewith shades up...my avocado green brethrenpleasures the soil.Memory as enchantmenta Belle at a Soiree,pureed, Gaston at a Dinner Party.Napanee suggests sympathy,a serendipity...as water winders its wayto clay in a moonlightturn of the bottle,I shall find a way.that's ironclad.[22]
Whisky GirlI like'em ragged round the rim,rough drawn at dawnpanting at the edge,belly-button ringtattooed navaldrinking silk panties shooters,not much in betweenif you knowWhat I mean[23]
Whisky GirlI like'em ragged round the rim,rough drawn at dawnpanting at the edge,belly-button ringtattooed navaldrinking silk panties shooters,not much in betweenif you knowWhat I mean[23]
I like'em ragged round the rim,rough drawn at dawnpanting at the edge,belly-button ringtattooed navaldrinking silk panties shooters,not much in betweenif you knowWhat I mean[23]
High Frequency Draw(High Alert)Les bougies sur les tombeaux(The candles on the graves)antilles dread locks ...french chocolate it is not.[24]
High Frequency Draw(High Alert)Les bougies sur les tombeaux(The candles on the graves)antilles dread locks ...french chocolate it is not.[24]
Les bougies sur les tombeaux(The candles on the graves)antilles dread locks ...french chocolate it is not.[24]
Red Fox(Red Horse Lake)A magnificent Red Devilsplayed out in his tracks;this tumultuous soul, baron of the backwoodswith his provenance unknown ...this compromise to individualityabandons him to chorome deathunder a canopy-canapé dream-coated rock dome.Trepanned, empire of trees, dark matter& a castle of leaves,a fish-hawk for a tomahawkin his thermo-cline eyes ...dithyrambic young osprey in the offing,candelabra under stars.Going inland for freshwater prawns,sandalwood and tortoiseshellsfinding bewitchment amid moving cars.[25]
Red Fox(Red Horse Lake)A magnificent Red Devilsplayed out in his tracks;this tumultuous soul, baron of the backwoodswith his provenance unknown ...this compromise to individualityabandons him to chorome deathunder a canopy-canapé dream-coated rock dome.Trepanned, empire of trees, dark matter& a castle of leaves,a fish-hawk for a tomahawkin his thermo-cline eyes ...dithyrambic young osprey in the offing,candelabra under stars.Going inland for freshwater prawns,sandalwood and tortoiseshellsfinding bewitchment amid moving cars.[25]
A magnificent Red Devilsplayed out in his tracks;this tumultuous soul, baron of the backwoodswith his provenance unknown ...this compromise to individualityabandons him to chorome deathunder a canopy-canapé dream-coated rock dome.Trepanned, empire of trees, dark matter& a castle of leaves,a fish-hawk for a tomahawkin his thermo-cline eyes ...dithyrambic young osprey in the offing,candelabra under stars.Going inland for freshwater prawns,sandalwood and tortoiseshellsfinding bewitchment amid moving cars.[25]
When I was a Much Younger ManWhen I was a much younger man,my spiritual homeland was a scrub-mile of bush with thicketleaves the size of your palms.Saucer-size holes of white air enveloped the edge of treesand the sky was large, an upturned pitcherplaced upon its ears...edge-wise cicadas & June Beetles let out long throbsand the people rounded out lives between the farmhouse & the barn.This ennobled them and they were famously resilient and, in turn,redolent with firmness & the gladness of life.There was a Drive House, a pig pen, sheds & a chicken coop and, bynight, stars became the earlier evening swallows gulping the space Left inthe train of the moon. There was no one Empress of the Night anymorethan a Prince or Kings towered across the landscape.Stillness and the largeness of things, predominated, and a hill cascadingbetween the fields & pond held both largess and chaos in nature.A fence line divided the dynasties, then Regencies across an orchard& what seemed to many an enchanted bridge to the woods.It was here a boy made his stand.The language of rock/hillside/lakes & nettle stands like the back of my handto fill a calendar wall, their musical sounds are brave arias in waveswith sonatas first in strength, then pleasure.This Frontenac Axis as fortress, strong-hold, its booty lichens, moss,legends such as Meyer's Cave, John Meyers murdered for silver,Mazinaw Rock, the Mugwumpsmore water in this Davy Jones locker than all Araby,this wonder & merriment all strung in a violin stringas webs of beads these lakessilver cistern,lovely listening,this necklace of forest wreath,placid leaf fingering wide-eyed watershed rich in Massasauga serpentslike daggers in that tarn, karst topography lime-stone carapacePainted Turtle hemorrhaging as orange leaves in Sumac troves,copses as sky counts, lakes like the back of my hand ache with the wishI could swim them all, wallow in their own restless energy.Snapping Turtle Point, a pail of water and a beast three bucket sizeswith a yellow underbelly like an alligator, claws, black raven mouthlunging his neck as some gladiator's sword primitive in his ferocity.Nigh near lacerated my hand, no wish, here, to leave digits there as newFinger Lakes.Names masculine to the touch and their roundness——Mississageon,Buckshot could pepper a listener or blur in seconds turning effete,Shabomeeka, Sharbot or learn likeness and leisure in the form of thelute, Kashwakemak, sound brittle——Rogue's Hollow, Marlbank,Lime Lake, the Claire River disappearing into a swamp & muskegwhere one maps out one's personal Mythology—Napanee is and as Anthology.[26]The End
When I was a Much Younger ManWhen I was a much younger man,my spiritual homeland was a scrub-mile of bush with thicketleaves the size of your palms.Saucer-size holes of white air enveloped the edge of treesand the sky was large, an upturned pitcherplaced upon its ears...edge-wise cicadas & June Beetles let out long throbsand the people rounded out lives between the farmhouse & the barn.This ennobled them and they were famously resilient and, in turn,redolent with firmness & the gladness of life.There was a Drive House, a pig pen, sheds & a chicken coop and, bynight, stars became the earlier evening swallows gulping the space Left inthe train of the moon. There was no one Empress of the Night anymorethan a Prince or Kings towered across the landscape.Stillness and the largeness of things, predominated, and a hill cascadingbetween the fields & pond held both largess and chaos in nature.A fence line divided the dynasties, then Regencies across an orchard& what seemed to many an enchanted bridge to the woods.It was here a boy made his stand.The language of rock/hillside/lakes & nettle stands like the back of my handto fill a calendar wall, their musical sounds are brave arias in waveswith sonatas first in strength, then pleasure.This Frontenac Axis as fortress, strong-hold, its booty lichens, moss,legends such as Meyer's Cave, John Meyers murdered for silver,Mazinaw Rock, the Mugwumpsmore water in this Davy Jones locker than all Araby,this wonder & merriment all strung in a violin stringas webs of beads these lakessilver cistern,lovely listening,this necklace of forest wreath,placid leaf fingering wide-eyed watershed rich in Massasauga serpentslike daggers in that tarn, karst topography lime-stone carapacePainted Turtle hemorrhaging as orange leaves in Sumac troves,copses as sky counts, lakes like the back of my hand ache with the wishI could swim them all, wallow in their own restless energy.Snapping Turtle Point, a pail of water and a beast three bucket sizeswith a yellow underbelly like an alligator, claws, black raven mouthlunging his neck as some gladiator's sword primitive in his ferocity.Nigh near lacerated my hand, no wish, here, to leave digits there as newFinger Lakes.Names masculine to the touch and their roundness——Mississageon,Buckshot could pepper a listener or blur in seconds turning effete,Shabomeeka, Sharbot or learn likeness and leisure in the form of thelute, Kashwakemak, sound brittle——Rogue's Hollow, Marlbank,Lime Lake, the Claire River disappearing into a swamp & muskegwhere one maps out one's personal Mythology—Napanee is and as Anthology.[26]The End
When I was a much younger man,my spiritual homeland was a scrub-mile of bush with thicketleaves the size of your palms.Saucer-size holes of white air enveloped the edge of treesand the sky was large, an upturned pitcherplaced upon its ears...edge-wise cicadas & June Beetles let out long throbsand the people rounded out lives between the farmhouse & the barn.This ennobled them and they were famously resilient and, in turn,redolent with firmness & the gladness of life.There was a Drive House, a pig pen, sheds & a chicken coop and, bynight, stars became the earlier evening swallows gulping the space Left inthe train of the moon. There was no one Empress of the Night anymorethan a Prince or Kings towered across the landscape.Stillness and the largeness of things, predominated, and a hill cascadingbetween the fields & pond held both largess and chaos in nature.A fence line divided the dynasties, then Regencies across an orchard& what seemed to many an enchanted bridge to the woods.It was here a boy made his stand.The language of rock/hillside/lakes & nettle stands like the back of my handto fill a calendar wall, their musical sounds are brave arias in waveswith sonatas first in strength, then pleasure.This Frontenac Axis as fortress, strong-hold, its booty lichens, moss,legends such as Meyer's Cave, John Meyers murdered for silver,Mazinaw Rock, the Mugwumpsmore water in this Davy Jones locker than all Araby,this wonder & merriment all strung in a violin stringas webs of beads these lakessilver cistern,lovely listening,this necklace of forest wreath,placid leaf fingering wide-eyed watershed rich in Massasauga serpentslike daggers in that tarn, karst topography lime-stone carapacePainted Turtle hemorrhaging as orange leaves in Sumac troves,copses as sky counts, lakes like the back of my hand ache with the wishI could swim them all, wallow in their own restless energy.Snapping Turtle Point, a pail of water and a beast three bucket sizeswith a yellow underbelly like an alligator, claws, black raven mouthlunging his neck as some gladiator's sword primitive in his ferocity.Nigh near lacerated my hand, no wish, here, to leave digits there as newFinger Lakes.Names masculine to the touch and their roundness——Mississageon,Buckshot could pepper a listener or blur in seconds turning effete,Shabomeeka, Sharbot or learn likeness and leisure in the form of thelute, Kashwakemak, sound brittle——Rogue's Hollow, Marlbank,Lime Lake, the Claire River disappearing into a swamp & muskegwhere one maps out one's personal Mythology—Napanee is and as Anthology.[26]The End