Show ' Killdeer 7 Running nightlong from a nameless assassin Hunting his form his name my own Hunter and quarry eluding I dropped recalling Another storm uncountable storms ago ' “ That yellow flash then low long thunder Shaking the spent mood in a rumbled moan That is no name more like the dream of an echo Burning caught coned in a monstrous Same j Black hall there pounding the yellow lake Ice porphyry ice-a- ir icecolored cloud no mom Black gusts driving one rickety shape Graceful in movement and body enough But never never never to be swift enough d he ran he tumbled he blew Like a hairball a tuft a lint upon Rapidly sliding sand His hopeless fright g Frantic and wild no strong Wing-droppe- ? ' swan-canin- ' ’t : - i' '" Only the tiniest weakest forward-fallin- g Into his fusion of bird and flight Pulled into depths of conical black Hail once down can never go back Why did he run when always he knew Running from is running to? Why did he scream as if his cry Could cove him at cliffs edge safe and dry? ' V ' i ’j :v- ' Metempsychosis ' ':f yy p£ ' i ' Why are you smiling? skin gleams Bright gold-oliin my dusk where your One brows brood gently and dark eyes are fixed tenderly smiling like pain acknowledged then accepted endured What are you looking for? My V ’ father tamed wild horses ve r 4 t: : ''I - father who is eighty shot white bears In my small Arctic Crystal igloos Mounded wastes of boundless snow He fished In sawtooth oceans for my frigid food and flame That made blue glaciers tumble milk Braided gold ears on each cold stalk V Charmed ruby rings from drunks of chalk My : - In dreams from allwhere I am small and bringing tea or coffee in toy china cups to you ' Vor climbing on a hassock with an ivory handled brush to stroke your black long fragrant hair ' Hoping to hear your mocking laugh I listen— What are you listening for? Prismed the air to silk He gave me dogs some hones to shape ' Why do you call me Mother: though you make no sound? I free myself I’m resolute I disobey defy you No I will not come Why are you smiling listening? What are you looking for? A knife a skin a game' :rp' t ' ' i ii' I '' 'X "A " 4 a sharing of human experience I just write when I have something that I feel needs to be said I haven’t really publltfied that much I have concentrated most of my efforts on teaching The original purpose of creative writing is clarification of thought rather than publication Then if it’s good enough it should be shared" “A good poem is ' - t ‘i rs V1 :fc i' ic 'v'-- ' V- V & ' ’1 1' : ’ 's'Wls - ' J ' v ' v:7 v ' fj- “( e — Veneta 'Mf Nielsen - - s'1"- - v"s uV' - :r r If seas of tempest battered down ' Mountains and diffo a channd ditdi Where roily waters had to move u Along a stern but seemly groove Although the restless current prove ’'As angular as Utter love1 vHe gave me for my earliest home willow basket caulked with pitch y i - "A ‘iSs's y ‘V - tf -- ' Mjr father made an ark so tough'A dove could find it in fire sleet J'i- ' dunes could see My father from mage Our desert spin with windrift sand As hot as comets’ tails and he would spell The unfixed whirligig to stop then stitch Our ragged tent upon a calm Would gather dates from mirage palmV-Genie a well of scorpion balm Could sing a psalm His gateways to our camel's eye ' v v Unnerved the needles of the rich y ‘t ii ' sun-spray- ed -- ' ' Jp 'V i1 v r - - - -- ' Hvr r : Xrr V My father tamed wild horses down A fire of Jungle vines Too temperate For crocodiles he caged a too V' Of leopards tigers zebras Cobras came : He found me brooks and hidden springs He taught me lotus and the fringe Of shadow that will shelter things ' He brought to me what darkness brings1 f He gave me bows- and arrow barbs Hr ride Us rein my namey ' v v ': h ' L?iV-- V Pog7 |