STOP LOOK LISTEN
as gate stripes swing down
count the cars hauling distance
upgrade through town:
warning whistle, bellclang,
engine eating steam,
engineer waving,
a fast-freight dream:
B&M boxcar,
boxcar again,
......
When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
......
I prefer red chile over my eggs
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
They lend open-air vegetable stands
historical grandeur, and gently swing
with an air of festive welcome.
I can hear them talking in the wind,
haggard, yellowing, crisp, rasping
tongues of old men, licking the breeze.
......
You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.
That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair
......
The hair falling on your forehead
suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering
in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.
Far off
where we can't see,
the moon must be rising.
......
Green and red apples
flowers in a ruby vase
Hues shout in stillness
and sweetest blooms, richest red
capture the laziest eye.
Vibrant explosions
in the hushed art museum
where the colors dream
Life frozen in a moment
......
wild birds are gliding
in the crimson dimension
of sunset on sea
sly stars are twinkling
through treetops along the shore
dark curtains will fall
in the twilight hour
there'll be songs to sunset moon
......
dreamy fragrant rose
on the avenue of sun
half scarlet half cream
slender elegance
living for the ripe summer
lush fields of honey
there will be singing
when the aged dawn turns noon
......
Red robin has long been singing, amidst a forest green spring,
In the burnt apricot days of sun, of teal skies fresh and clear,
Warbling to a blooming world unseen, hues coming and going.
Then red butterflies appear, like pale moon in plum mists sheer.
In the burnt apricot days of sun, of teal skies fresh and clear,
Satiny voiced red robin sings, while grazing the cream clouds.
Then red butterflies appear, like pale moon in plum mists sheer;
And all of nature's lovely crowds, are wrapt in dusky shrouds.
......
Deepest darkest reds
crimson guest in the roses
of the same rich hue.
Flowers and plumed cardinal
interact through scents and song.
Vivid green summer
showers gold on scarlet lane-
forever moments!
Bush concert at my window
......