Each morning his face flushed as he remembered the boy's words, "I want that shovel. It's just like yours." And each morning he fell to his knees, extended his arms, then plunged his hands into the ... [+]
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.