Near Paulo's home, in the rich deep earth, dark eggs lay. They waited for decades, to be brought to hatch. When they hatched, they hatched death, or dismemberment, bursting forth with all the energy ... [+]
Mountain Nose: International Voluntary Services/VN, ’68-’69, II-III Corps, as orphanage shop instructor, supply delivery, and recon. Member Poets West Society. "Mid-American Back Roads" is in Short Circuit #08, Short Édition's quarterly review.
Flocks in flight,
Murmurations
Of rippling ribbons
Against rain-full skies
Above the stubble fields
Of slump-shouldered towns
Where restaurant dining
Is fries in paper bags
And shopping consists
Of convenience store trips.
There, the main allure,
Aladdin's magic lamp,
Is the Interstate sign
Pointing the way out.
Murmurations
Of rippling ribbons
Against rain-full skies
Above the stubble fields
Of slump-shouldered towns
Where restaurant dining
Is fries in paper bags
And shopping consists
Of convenience store trips.
There, the main allure,
Aladdin's magic lamp,
Is the Interstate sign
Pointing the way out.