The Middlewesterner

Whipping trees,
a tough wind -

enough to tear,
too much to mend.

Lay of these fields
in this slant of light -

warmth of the soil
as dark as night.

"In the end
we are left with

only the first
word we said:

ma or pa or ba."

*

"Sometimes they come so fast I can't
catch them all,
and sometimes it's like stirring soup."

*

"Tire company
next to church -
what's with that?

A shoe store
I could understand."

"Buckle Up
Poem Ahead"

*

"Where I am
is where I was.

When will I
be here?"

*

"Half a poem?
I guess I can't

complain too much."

Water
on the low ground -

what
to say of it

that is both
wise

and wet?

Farmer
in his field,

the whole
season ahead

of him,
dust cloud

behind.

Clouds
and the darkness

of shadow.
A little

rain
on the fields

that lay
open.

The spit of spring,
the grey hang

of everything.
Wind and cloud

and a crow,
outloud.

Morning is
what morning is,

not much, and
nothing more.

Crow on the gravel,
tail to the wind,

his feathers ruffled,
his heart full of sin.

"You've had your coffee.
You've had your poem.

Now get going!"

*

"Where you are
does not tell me

who I am."

*

"The silence

in this poem
is me

falling away
to nothing."

"I need some
poetry, so

I must go."

*

"Old man,
sing your song.

It is like
no other."

*

"That tick, tick, tick
is the beating of

this poem's heart."

Silent birds
on the bright

green lawn -
spring is come

but not
its song.

Morning
light.

Green blush
of woods,

this early,
this much.

Hummock and hill,
the ancient silt

laid down like
a blessing,

these ancient fields
warming in the slow

spring sun.

Oh, to fly
with ancient
cranes.

Oh, to sing
their ancient
song.

Empty sky,
not quite

as much
as nothing.

"Hold the pen
all the while you wait.

Set it down
and you're done."

*

"The poem!
Shhh -

the poem!"

*

"Is there a problem, officer?
No, I'm sorry, I don't know

the speed limit in this poem."

"Yep, I slip
in and out of

paying attention."

*

"Speak quietly -
nothing

holds for long."

*

"Watch this," he said.
"Quick now. Want to

see it again?"

Water goes
where water goes,

insistent
standing still,

equally so
when it flows.

Memory
of the land

here, where
water stands.

Even two
miles away

I can see
them - the trees

saying: Spring!

New buds - the trees
full of wishfulness.

"Sometimes we know too much and
sometimes too much is not enough."

*

"It's not noticeable if you
don't notice it."

*

"The law of unintended consequences -
keep tinkering with it and some day

it won't work at all."

"The poet -
smashing pumpkins,

making pie."

*

"Like gum
stuck to the underside
of a table,

the poem."

*

"We wait and drink and wait and
still the morning does not come."

A sky
so low

the trees
are clouds.

Splash! Duck
hits the

pothole.
Spring now.

The green
of spring

pushes at
the grey

long winter
being

laid away.

A memory
of snow

beneath
the trees.

Sun erases.
Shadow

lets it be.

"Ah, poets -
we take so many

punches and make
no sense."

*

"Making no sense
or not much

is a good start
for a poet."

*

"Poet -
crouch like a tiger

and wait."