Monday Poems en Flood Song <p>He wanted to hold back gas-soaked doves with a questioning glance;<br />he wanted the clock to tick, downwind from this gavel and pew,<br />from this leash, bucket, drainpipe, and mildewed cracker,<br />from the mind's muddy swan served on a platter with lemon rids,<br />from spiders scurrying over its bone-polished surface,<br />from crosshatches punched into its shredded time card,<br />from the desert near the tree line where the molting must have begun,<br />where crushed bodies heave warm, jellylife,<br />in the thicket at the foot of the wandering, Mon, 14 Apr 2014 15:13:57 +0000 Sherwin Bitsui 17615 at Flood Song "The Moment" <p>In those days, Betty Crocker<br />always called for sifted flour, and so<br />in homes across America, women sifted.<br />When my mother's mother turned<br />the wobbly red knob, hulls and stones<br />jumped in the wire basket,<br />but by my mother's time<br />the flour was fine—<br />now women sifted to achieve<br />precision, purity, perfection.<br />It made the white flour whiter.<br />Then flour came in bags,<br />already sifted, and women stopped<br />making their own cakes and bread,<br />and didn't have time anyway<br />for sifting. But for a flicker Mon, 07 Apr 2014 12:43:00 +0000 Jane Hilberry 16196 at "The Moment" "Spring" <p>Five first crocuses burst into bird-brilliant bloom<br />and suddenly everything flies: behind a car<br />ascraps of paper rise, two from a flock, startled dumb.<br />Some lives begin in abstraction; others end there.<br />If I find the child's fist this universe bloomed from<br />I will close it again as my own five fingers,<br />say worlds as one sentence, fit them into a name<br />for gold overwhelming finches, feather by feather.<br />With leaves returned, we still hear birds bu see them now<br />only when they fly. It's hard to see anything, Mon, 31 Mar 2014 12:42:00 +0000 H. L. Hix 16211 at "Spring" "Birds of a Feather" <p>Each spring the hummingbirds hover<br />over the same place on my patio<br />Where twenty-four years ago hung<br />a red plastic feeder filled with sugar water<br /><br />Four or five fowl generations later<br />through some unfathomable feat<br />these offspring flutter wings over<br />empty air in worship of this sacred spot<br /><br />And I wonder if my great grandparents<br />fed off the magnificence of the Rio Grande<br />Where it divides New Mexican high desert<br />Blood of Christ Mountains on one side<br />and burnt amber sunset on the other<br /> Mon, 24 Mar 2014 12:08:00 +0000 Ellaraine Lockie 13605 at "Birds of a Feather" "Emerald" <p>Unbidden, a green memory<br />sprang forth, so overwhelming<br />in its clarity, it leapt across<br />three quarters of a century:<br />I stood before a counter-top<br />of jewelry, eye height, beside<br />my father who had brought me to<br />that "five and dime" store in the Bronx.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Among the many rings displayed,<br />one gleaming emerald shone there<br />surpassing all the rest, and, firmly set<br />within a silver band, it was on sale<br />just for one dollar that my father<br />told the saleslady I'd saved. Mon, 17 Mar 2014 12:47:00 +0000 Robert Pack 16207 at "Emerald" "Love Letters" <p>Wow!<br />was written in the dust<br />on the beside table.<br /><br />The dawn and I blushed together<br />as your spurs<br />chinged<br />around the kitchen<br />as you started the fire.<br /><br />I stretched full length<br />on the cool smoothness<br />of the sheets,<br /><br />a kept woman<br />a woment longer.<br /><br />Within an hour's time<br />we'll be ahorseback<br />in a long trot<br />to some distant blue mountain<br />hunting cows.<br /><br />I'll carry your message<br />close<br />knowing there will come a day<br />I would give a year of my life<br />for that...<br />Wow!</p> Mon, 10 Mar 2014 16:12:42 +0000 Linda Hussa 15961 at "Love Letters" "A Cold Night" <p>Heavy with ancient memories of grace<br />and the ghosts of a thousand riders,<br />the solitary horse moves slowly down from the canyon<br />of deep winter shadows<br />towards a moon trapped in river ice.<br /><br />Diamonds sift down from a cottonwood<br />onto quivering yellow-white haunches;<br />a cold night for crossing frozen water,<br />a cold night for an old dreaming gypsy horse<br />to step over the moon.</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------</p><p></p> Mon, 24 Feb 2014 12:31:00 +0000 Philip J. Burgess 15307 at "A Cold Night" "Birds of a Feather" <p>(For Marylor)</p> Mon, 17 Feb 2014 13:47:20 +0000 Ed Lahey 15137 at "Birds of a Feather" "Still Alive" <p>Grain from farms along the Highline<br />fills the hold of Nordic Monarch.<br />Madrona sheds its bark like skin and<br />the surface of the sea is more<br />sensitive than skin. Somewhere<br />my noble fir breathes in<br />a million cells of air.<br /><br />My life is stored in the city,<br />marrow frozen for the futurity<br />markets, news for brokers of shade<br />and schedule.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; So the sweet air<br />and tall trees of God's country Mon, 10 Feb 2014 13:06:00 +0000 Matthew Hansen 14292 at "Still Alive" "Children of Snow" <p><em>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; for my Children</em><br /><br />I try to stay snow that my children wish<br />would come hard in Missoula, come hard<br />in me. There is fun in me like children<br />of fox and geese, sleds without tracks,<br />without worry. Yet this winter weighs heavy<br />as wet snow as I visit Welch and ramble<br />wishing for right time for ripe snow.<br /> Mon, 03 Feb 2014 13:29:00 +0000 Victor Charlo 14002 at "Children of Snow"