| Toad Hall Times | ||||||||||||
| fern roots, river water, boney rocks...art-making | ||||||||||||
Cold snow blow ![]() hasties for lateries----- He found a pea in his pocket, in the pocket of his shirt Prince’s pine, prince in the pines The schools were closed because of sickness A dried leaf of mint , remaining scent of summer visitors tossing back their whiskeys among the furniture Down the dark hollow through the snowy cold, winter train flings –squeals shapes shidft something somewthig ---past at the bottom of the hollow at the end of the winter fhollow lies Spring In the light of the sewage house where the sewage lives Thast we have sent That we have all sent White cat runs between our cars on the backstreet in the wintery cold in the dark The white cat between us Giant wings going down the road –or props of a windmill blades –or thw ings of an angel so big A man points out that Security is a a type of Theartre now. It is all about feeling, I t is a kabuki dance Mary must mourne molly Threee Little birds are at the door to my park Sitting for s;plit seconds , flinking about and away A chickadee, a blue-grey nuthatch, a reddish wren –winter wren in the winter? Tired a little from shoveling snow, hands burnt from photos in the snowy river banks The snow winds roar down up the thru our river valley the cabins hear them coming ang crouch before them Then there is a blurry sea of driftiign snow, a watery thingee to float thru Out and across the lot of the post office, now we know what the moaning scxhreeching sound was, it ti s the scream of the wind thru things, car partdss, lite poles electric wires, joined by church bells tolling and overhead roil rolling glittery swarms of stars Clear cold cacaphony Feb 4 Considering the Fourth Pair of Sox Rattle and thump at the front door but its only the wind loud osund of clear air over the wings of the C-130 low overhead Thick Towel against the window blow 3 below lullaby tea (“ask a stranger why I’m waiting in the chamber of a gun” “ I’d like to be tha b ig black bird sitting in ypoonder tree….I wish Iw was that river rolling on cdown to the sea, I wish I was that cold hard stone” and other songs of ravens) Cold knees predictions of doom 2007-02-05 20:03:14 GMT
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