A few lines

     Dear All,

Did you ever 'see' a poem?  I bet you've witnessed dozens of them.  Here's one I saw late this summer.  Imagine that I am reading it to you, and that you cannot re-read it to see if I said "milkmoon" or "moonmilk."  These are the utterly delightful choices that people who write poems make on a regular basis.  Get yourself in on the action; sharpen up a Way of the Dodo pencil and watch for a poem.  You'll be glad you did.







Half as Much


There is a towering cactus;
long wavering limbs of blue, grey, green.
Cacto super gigante.

Growing at the end of one road and the middle of another,
and it blooms
at night
in heat
in summer
in street light.

Milkmoon trumpets
sound from greygreen arms.



A boy drove his car through the night
one hundred miles an hour
through a near telephone pole,

that carries the electricity that lights our
night dark rooms

and the lights went out
and a fire burned
and the cactus burned
and slumped
and ashed. 

And blooms were
beaten off and branches broken.